A Different Kind of Family
by csijenniferlynn
Summary: Grissom and Sara already exist as a different kind of family, seeing as the difference in their ages is quite considerable and their jobs leave them living apart more often than not, but this story adds a new element to their non-traditional marriage.
1. Happy Mother's Day: May 2011

Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from the CSI franchise. Unless I am expressly told that I have to do so, I am not going to state this obvious misfortune at the beginning of every chapter. I think once per story ought to be enough.

Notes: In this story, Grissom and Sara are married. Sara still works at the lab, and Grissom makes a living as a traveling professor and field researcher, but is home in Vegas with Sara a lot more often than our favorite show currently has him at home. Please read and review; I hope you enjoy this!

CSICSICSICSICSI

A Different Kind of Family

As Sara slammed her locker door at the lab, she was looking forward to getting home to bed. While Hank was the only one she'd get to share the bed with tonight, the idea of comfortable sheets and even dog drool was comforting after such a long, tiring shift. She threw an absent-minded "See ya later!" at Greg as she headed toward the lab doors. Twenty-five minutes later, she pulled into her numbered parking space outside the townhouse she and Grissom had bought together. Moving hastily to the front door, Sara unlocked the door, shoved Hank off her chest as he bounded up to greet her, and then took care of all the little home making and dog owning tasks required of her every morning.

Finally, Sara sat, legs folded neatly beneath her, on the worn, brown leather couch. She had just picked up the phone to call her husband when the doorbell rang. _What on earth? _Sara contemplated who could be at the door: Grissom was in Atlanta and wouldn't ring the doorbell anyway. The dog sitter wasn't picking Hank up for another 8 hours, and besides, she usually knocked. Greg had been known to drop by for the occasional impromptu visit, but he was due in court at 10:00. Nick? Catherine? _The Fed Ex delivery guy?_ Really? Knowing she hadn't recently placed any online orders, Sara was slightly wary of the thick manila envelope she was eyeing through the peep-hole in the door, but knowing there was only one way to find out what it was, she opened the door, signed for the envelope, and headed back to the couch, only after the Fed Ex guy wished her a Happy Mother's Day. _Ha!_

Sara had completely forgotten about Mother's Day. While she should have wished Catherine a Happy Mother's Day before heading out of the lab this morning, she'd see her again tonight and could tell her then. It's not like she really had any reason to remember Mother's Day. Yes, she had had a mom once upon a time, but it wasn't like they were close; Sara didn't even know if she was still alive. Her musings about her mother were short lived; the mysterious manila envelope was crying out for her attention.

All of her years working as a CSI had taught Sara to be overly cautious, so she was tempted to grab some latex gloves before opening the envelope when she noticed it had no return address. Her address had been typed and printed onto a sticky label. The post-mark appeared to be from Savanna. _Georgia? Who the hell would send me something from Savanna? Wait a minute… how far apart are Savanna and Atlanta? _Figuring her sneaky husband was to blame for the appearance of the Fed-Ex guy, Sara smiled to herself and wondered at the lengths Gil would go to to surprise her. No return address. Whatever. She'd know the minute she opened the envelope that it was from him, so why bother driving to another city to keep her guessing for 30 more seconds than if he'd just written his name on the envelope? Sometimes, he was too endearing. Grinning, Sara eagerly slit the envelope open and pulled out a rather thick stack of papers, stapled together and bearing the title "Nevada Department of Health and Human Services" and the subtitle "Division of Child and Family Services." _What? _

As she moved her glance away from the rather confusing words she'd just read, Sara noticed a piece of yellow legal pad paper hanging halfway out of the envelope she had haphazardly tossed onto the coffee table. Hoping for an explanation, she tore the paper away from the envelope. In Grissom's handwriting, she read:

Dearest Sara, If I was home right now, I can guarantee I'd be seeing your eyebrows slanting downward and several creases in your forehead right now as a result of the contents of the envelope you just opened. I don't know how far into the packet you delved before noticing this note, but if I guess correctly, you've done nothing more than read the heading. If that's the case, Sara, I beg you to look carefully through each and every page of that packet. Think carefully about the implications. Call me. I will, of course, stand by any decision you make, but I truly feel that this could be a blessing for you, for us. Happy Mother's Day. I love you. Gil

Sara was more confused than ever. _Happy Mother's Day? What on earth is he on about? _She picked up the packet and began to peruse it. Grissom had painstakingly filled out all 27 pages of the Foster Parent Application packet, minus her signatures in various places. _Foster Parent? Is he kidding me? Oh, dear God, tell me he's kidding me!_ Gil may have been able to pull off flirtatious teasing now and then and could certainly come up with a witty quote for any and every situation, but send her a joke about becoming a foster parent? Not likely. In no universe would she have found such a joke funny, and while he was often oblivious to people's feelings, Sara's husband certainly knew and understood that her past as a foster child was not something to tease her about. _If he's not joking, this is for real. He really wants us to be foster parents. _

Poor Hank was probably getting dizzy swiveling his head back and forth, back and forth, watching Sara restlessly pace across the family room floor. Her facial expressions changed so often, it seemed the dog didn't know when it was safe to approach her; he seemed glued to his spot on the hardwood floor. After 3 hours of pacing, perusing the packet, throwing it back onto the coffee table, picking it back up, scowling at it, crying, smiling, running her hands through her hair, cursing out loud, remembering her life as a foster child, and silently damning her husband for forcing those memories upon her, Sara grabbed her cell phone.


	2. The Phone Call: May 2011

Note: I'm glad you're brave enough to take on reading a second chapter of this story! This chapter covers most of the phone conversation between Grissom and Sara regarding the foster parent application. Thanks for reviewing the first chapter; two of you wonderful readers added this story to your favorite stories already- I do hope I earn such an honor! I hope this second chapter meets your expectations; please review! Thanks!

CSICSICSICSICSI

"Hello?" Grissom had been waiting anxiously, phone in hand, for hours. He knew Sara would eventually call after receiving the foster parent application packet from him, and he had tried to be patient, but his cell phone was actually wet now- his sweaty palms had not once been able to set the phone down as he waited for Sara's reaction.

"Gil? What the hell? Foster parents? Are you insane? We talked about this. Well, not _this_ per say, but we talked about kids. No kids. We're too old, remember? Any pregnancy would be high risk. My job is too stressful and dangerous and my hours are too wrong for motherhood. You're not home enough for fatherhood. Did you forget all of this? Why are you doing this to me? What were you thinking? _Did_ you think? Do you know how awful it was to be a foster kid? You know- you know how I was treated, you know how many times I moved from house to hovel to apartment with my garbage bag of clothes. You just forced me to relive all of that and didn't even have the decency to be home. Really, Gil, why on earth did you do this to me?" Sara was over-talking; the words wouldn't stop flowing as she forced herself not to cry. Grissom had been trying to interrupt from his end of the line, and finally managed to sneak a word in as Sara drew breath.

"Sara." That one word, spoken forcefully, yet in calm voice, was enough to stop Sara's rant. She let a tear slide down her cheek as she collapsed back on to the couch and waited on her end of the line for Grissom to explain himself. Hank plodded over and leaned against Sara's legs, head in her lap, staring up at her with large, dark eyes, as if to offer comfort to his visibly upset master.

"Sara," Grissom said again, quietly and remorsefully. "I am so sorry to have upset you. Will you let me explain?" Hearing nothing but a sniffle from his wife's end of the line, he assumed that was an affirmative answer and pressed on.

"Sara, I knew that the application would be a horrible cause of emotional trauma for you. Therefore, you have to understand that I had a pressing reason to go through with hurting you; you know I do _try_ to avoid hurting you at all costs, but I just couldn't avoid this. This issue has been on my mind for seven months now, and I couldn't ignore it any longer."

"What issue, Gil? Why the hell would you have started thinking, 'Gee, maybe I wanna be a foster parent when I grow up?'? It doesn't make any sense!"

Grissom grabbed his car keys off of Catherine's kitchen island. Unbeknownst to Sara, he _had_ been thoughtful enough to be back in Vegas when he sprung such a life-altering surprise at her. He had given her time alone because he suspected that if he had handed her the foster parent application in person, she would have glared at it, then at him, and then tossed it straight into the shredder. He also suspected that if he had then procured a second, non-shredded copy and actually managed to coerce her into talking about the idea, she would have loathed having him around to see her "self-destruct" over her memories. But now, now he knew she needed him and he simply wanted to embrace her, to keep her safe from her fears in his arms.

Grissom began to answer Sara as he locked Catherine's door behind him. "Honey, you're making me feel juvenile. I didn't simply wake up one morning and think fostering would be a fun experiment like conducting electricity through a pickle. In fact, if you had suggested the idea to me, I would have thought you were insane, just as you're finding me at the moment." Grissom was careful to hold his finger over the speaker on the phone as he turned the ignition in his car. He smiled as he remembered stealing Sara's pickle for an experiment all those years ago; she had so sweetly watched every action of his as he lit up her lunch.

Frowning now at his current situation, he continued, "However, I am not insane. I'm sure you remember the Pennington murder-suicide case from seven months ago. Right? Mrs. Pennington shot her abusive husband and then herself?"

"Did you have to bring that case into this?" Sara was furious! Grissom had already just forced her to relive memories of her childhood that she tried with all her might to suppress as much as possible and now he brought up the worst case she'd ever be on? Sara shoved Hank off her lap and was on her feet again, pacing, trying to formulate coherent sentences that would make Gil understand what he was doing to her.

"God, Gil, I didn't sleep for months after that. Nora saw it all, even through her black eye. She was only 12, Gil. Twelve years old and alone in the world now with nothing to soothe her to sleep but memories of gunshots, the scent of blood, and the lifeless faces of the two people in the world who were supposed to protect her. To this day, almost 30 years after the fact, I still smell my father's blood. I still see his lifeless face. I still see my mom covered in his blood, cowering in the corner like a child. I still see the spatter on the walls and ceiling. I still hear the sirens. I still feel the hands of the person who drug me away from my broken family. Still, Gil. Do you understand that? That poor little girl has to go through that same thing now for the rest of her life. I had to watch the child advocate take her away, and you saw me cry because there was nothing, not a damn thing, I could do about it. So, why, why on God's green earth are you making me relive more awful… oh, God." Realization dawned. Grissom knew Nora's plight had been eating away at her. He wanted them to be her foster parents.

Sara whispered, "You want us to foster Nora, don't you? That's what this is all about?" Sara stopped her restless pacing and pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the patio door. She felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders; she could help Nora. Yet, at the same time, she felt as though a different, equally heavy weight, had been added to her shoulders to burden her; what if she couldn't do it? What if she was too afraid to foster? What if she was too selfish to foster? What if there really was a violence gene? More tears now escaped her eyes and spilled over her lashes. One fell from the tip of her nose to the floor as Grissom simply answered, in a confident tone, "Yes."


	3. The Choice Is Made: May 2011

Notes: I have never been a foster parent myself and therefore am not a pro as far as the whole process of becoming foster parents goes, but I have at least done some internet research to hopefully make this story believable. If you are or have ever been a foster parent, first of all, hats off to you (I thoroughly respect your caring and generosity), and second of all, I hope I do justice to the experience of fostering well (not poorly, like most of the families Sara had been placed with in her past) with this story. This chapter opens with the end of Grissom and Sara's phone conversation from last chapter. Thanks to all of you for reading; please leave a review!

CSICSICSICSICSI

"Oh, Gil," Sara whispered into the phone as she quickly ran a hand over her face to wipe away her tears, "I just don't know."

"I know, Sara. It's a huge decision to make, and it doesn't have to be made right this second. Would you like to get off the phone now so you can take a few minutes to think about it? You can always call me back when you're ready."

"Um, yeah. Yeah, Gil, I need more time. I thought I was ready to talk about this when I called, but I just can't. It's so hard. I just wish you were here. No, I just need more time. No, I just don't know what I need! This is just crazy, Gil! Until now, I thought we'd figured out our life together. Talk about overhauling the five year plan on me, huh?"

Grissom couldn't help but chuckle at that. Becoming foster parents had definitely never come up in their discussions. Careers, property ownership, and traveling had always been main topics on the table when talking about their future together. "Yes, honey, I guess I did. I can't say I was planning on fostering either." Grissom was smiling as he spoke warmly to Sara, and he was careful to choose words that wouldn't be lies, but wouldn't clue Sara in to his imminent arrival at their townhouse as he continued, "I just couldn't help this. I'm sorry, dear. Listen, I'll talk to you in a little while when we've both had a few minutes to corral our thoughts, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too, even if you have gone insane."

"Bye, Sara."

"Bye, Gil." Sara flipped her cell shut, dropped it onto the kitchen island, and wandered off toward the master bedroom. She paused instead at the doorway to the guest bedroom, or the vacant room, as she liked to think of it. No one ever stayed in there. Betty, her mother-in-law, had stayed with Grissom and herself twice, but other than for those 2 weeks, the guest bedroom was devoid of life. Even Hank didn't use it. He slept on a large pillow on the floor in the master bedroom.

When she and Grissom had purchased the townhouse, she had decorated the guest bedroom. Sara had chosen a cheery sunshine yellow for the walls and she and Gil had installed white crown molding along the ceiling. The brown ceiling fan had been replaced with a white one and white curtains adorned the large window and were tied back with thick yellow ribbons, along with thinner orange ones, to allow natural light to infiltrate the room. The queen sized bed with its white headboard and baseboard was covered with a downy white bedspread dotted with large yellow and orange gerbera daisies. There were small white bedside tables on either side of the bed and a large white dresser with a mirror over it lining the opposite wall. Sara smiled at the room. It was so cheerful. Betty's hands had flown as she signed compliment after compliment about her assigned space when she had come to visit.

Still standing in the doorway, Sara sighed and thought back to some of the bedrooms she'd lived in as a foster child. She had had one to herself. The walls were a light purple. The bed was comfortable. She had felt safe. But then the foster parents' biological daughter started getting in trouble at school. Sara had suspected that was because the girl had resented Sara's presence in her home, and sure enough, Sara was moved to the next foster home shortly thereafter. She had shared all of her other rooms. By law, only 2 foster children were allowed to share a room, but one family stuck her in a small room with 2 sets of bunk beds and 3 other girls. Social services found out and moved her on to the next home. She had shared a room with a toddler once. That had been supremely irritating. She had been in seventh grade, and it had been extremely difficult to complete her high school level algebra, biology, and American literature homework with a whiny 2 year old constantly hanging on her legs, scribbling on her notebooks, and tossing toys at her head. She wondered what Nora's current foster situation was like, and hoped she wasn't stuck in a room with a toddler. _I sure as hell don't know anything about being a mom, but I could at least give Nora a clean, spacious room of her own._

Sara was suddenly startled out of her reverie by Hank's joyous barking. She turned around and saw Gil standing at the end of the hall, with the gorgeous shy smile on his face that he reserved for times when he surprised Sara, as if asking if he achieved his goal of making her happy. He had. Sara hadn't been expecting to see her husband until the following week. They melted into each other's arms, drinking in each other's' scents, and enjoyed a passionate kiss or two, all while Hank ran circles around them, barking his approval of Grissom's arrival, and occasionally sneaking in a slobbery kiss of his own to whichever hand he happened to be nearest to.

Eventually, though, tears were shed. Sara tried to hide them, but she lost the battle against her tear ducts in the end. She knew why Grissom had come home. She knew why he had left her alone to discover the application. She knew they had to talk about it and she had no idea what to say.

Grissom knew the time had come to bring up the inevitable conversation, the one he had come home for, the one that was brought on by his choices, so he broached the subject carefully while he guided Sara to a barstool at the kitchen island and began to prepare some coffee to go with the cookies he had grabbed from Sara's favorite bakery on his way home. "Honey, I'm sure you've thought about nothing other than fostering since you opened that envelope I sent you. Are you ready to talk more about it?"

Sara chose a scrumptious looking oatmeal raisin chocolate chip cookie and took a bite before answering. Her body language- her slumped shoulders, her chin in her hand as her elbows rested on the countertop, her eyes closed as she chewed- suggested to Grissom that Sara was mentally exhausted. He poured her a cup of coffee and added cream and sugar to her liking. He stuck the mug in front of her and moved behind her to rub her shoulders. Sara relaxed at his touch and finally answered, "I guess. I don't really know, Gil. What makes you think we can do this?"

"It's not really fostering in general that I think we can do, Sara. It's taking Nora in that I'm sure we can do. Logistically speaking, we have the money, we have the space, and if I take a permanent position at UNLV, we wouldn't even need a child care provider because one of us could be home whenever she would be. The logistics are the easy things, although, emotionally, I am sure we can do this, too. I've been thinking about it for a long while. I've kept tabs on Nora. I knew how much it hurt you to see her condemned to being a ward of the state, and I knew you hated feeling powerless to help her. The idea of taking her into our home crossed my mind then, seven months ago when her family first fell apart, but I tried to dismiss it as foolish. The idea refused to be dismissed, however. I've dreamed about this, I've followed Nora's plight- I've not told you she's been in five foster homes already because I knew such news would weigh on your heart too much, and I've even tried time and time again to tell myself I'm too old to do this, too selfish to share you with a child, and too set in my ways to take on such a life-altering change, but then I picture Nora smiling. The one and only time she smiled at LVPD was when you spoke to her. I'm not sure she's smiled much since."

"But, Gil, you can't seriously want to take Nora into our home just to see her smile again. That's very noble of you and all, but there's got to be more to it than that." Sara was staring at Grissom with such a compassionate expression that Gil thought for perhaps the millionth time that he was the luckiest man on earth.

"Just trust me, Sara. Nora's case worker, Janet Vickers,"

"You've talked to her case worker?" Sara interrupted. She was amazed at the time Grissom had put into this idea of his, but then she shook her head at herself for being surprised- since when had Grissom not been thorough?

"Yes. As I was saying, Janet Vickers said that Nora's been in five different homes because she has become violent."

"WHAT? What do you mean, violent? Nora was as meek as a field mouse every time she was at the lab. She had no history of being violent. Her school records showed her to be an intelligent, very reserved child. She never even hit back when her dad abused her. There's just no way. I don't understand."

"Don't you, Sara? I think Nora's simply terrified. I think she's taken to hurting the other children in her foster homes because she wants to get kicked out. She was sexually, physically, and emotionally abused by her own father. Her mother was being abused, too, and therefore, had little support to offer. Nora was afraid to tell a teacher or even another child about her abuse because she was afraid her dad would find out and stop allowing her to go to school, which would have been a terrible blow because school was her safe haven. You of all people know that's true; it was the same for you. Nora watched her mother murder her father and then commit suicide. Her whole world was shattered. Now, she's been placed in homes with foster fathers and she's afraid of them. I'm sure she'll be afraid of me, too, but at least I understand that and at least she has reason already to trust you and to feel safe with you. She clung to you at the lab like a lifeline; she chose you as the one of us who would keep her safe. The foster mothers she's been placed with are probably kind, caring people, as are their husbands, but Nora has no previous knowledge of them, and she feels alone and afraid.

Tears began falling from Sara's eyes again. Grissom wiped one away with his thumb. Sara swiveled around on her bar stool and rested her head on Grissom's chest. She said, her voice muffled against his chest, "How long does it take to become a foster parent? I think you're right, Gil. I think we need to do this."


	4. A Friend in Need: May 2011

Notes: Thank you all for your continued support of A Different Kind of Family. I appreciate your time and your generous comments. This story is looking like it'll be my first long fanfic because of how many ideas I have for various chapters floating around in my head. I do hope these chapters are not too narrow in scope. So far, this story is in its 4th chapter, but the beginning of this chapter is still in day #1. I don't want it to get tedious, but I also don't want to skip over important details. Please let me know if I'm being too minutely detailed or if I'm bobbing along nicely. Your input will be helpful. Thanks!

CSICSICSICSICSI

After Sara had agreed to go along with Gil's plan, they had talked of nothing else until Sara had to leave for her shift at the lab. The atmosphere in their home had been strange- elated and celebratory one moment as they animatedly chatted about how they could help Nora and about how nice it would be to have Grissom permanently in Vegas, somber and melancholy the next as Sara's worst nightmares were relived in their discussions about her past as a foster child and as they feared that Nora was experiencing similar atrocities as they spoke, anxious and tense the next as they worried about whether they really were fit to be parents. The two of them had talked themselves hoarse, but they had at least agreed on what Sara should say to everyone at the lab when she drug her exhausted self there that evening.

At 10:30, Sara was ready to head out the door. Sort of. Grave shift started at 11:00, so she had changed into clean jeans and a green sleeveless top, had pulled her hair back into a ponytail, had stopped tearing up long enough to lose the telltale puffy eyelids and red eyes, and had grabbed a Tupperware of leftover vegetarian chili out of the fridge. She hadn't slept at all since before last shift and she was beyond tired, but how Grissom had expected her to sleep when he dropped the foster parenting bomb on her, Sara would never know. She'd been known to stay awake for three straight days; the guys were always jealous of that particular talent of hers. Heck, the guys wouldn't even know anything was up with her tonight because they'd all just assume she had been poring over a case all day instead of sleeping.

_I guess in a way I kind of was poring over a case all day. _Sara was lost in thought when she pulled into her marked space in the lab's garage. She was barely on time, so she knew she wouldn't have to spend time in idle chit-chat with anyone before Catherine handed out the night's assignments. She prayed for a solo case, maybe a nice, easy B&E. Sara hopped out and clicked the lock on her car door, glanced surreptitiously around for the garage's security guard, sighed in relief as she saw him casually strolling around the next row of cars (she'd been afraid of parking garages ever since Natalie Davis had stunned her into unconsciousness in one, but had come a long way in overcoming that fear), and headed into the building, eyes on the ground.

"Hey, Sara," Greg and Nick both called out as she joined them in the break room to wait for Catherine.

"Hey, guys. The coffee actually smells good. Greg, did you brew a pot of your Blue Hawaiian?" Sara smiled in anticipation of a good cup of coffee and a ready-made topic of conversation to pass the time until assignments were given.

Greg replied with his trademark cheeky grin and the words, "Sure did. I just bought a new bag this morning, so I figured I'd treat you all tonight. Plus, Catherine is a mom and all and it is Mother's Day for another hour, so I'm considering it her gift."

Nick piped up from the sofa, "Aw, aren't you just a right little sweetheart? Or is brownnoser a better term? Someone trying to get out of dumpster diving?"

Ray happened to walk in at that point and joined in Sara's and Greg's laughter, and then commented, "How exactly does Greg know he needs to get out of dumpster diving tonight? Has anyone seen Catherine yet? Have I missed assignments? I was just trying to get DNA results from Wendy from my double homicide last night."

"Nah, Ray," Nick cut in, "Cath's not been in yet, but I think her office light was on when I passed it a bit ago."

Not one to allow the conversation to stray to work when it was unnecessary, Greg cut back into the conversation. "You know, I think the next dumpster dive belongs to you, Nicky, so ha. I don't even need to brownnose. So, anyway, who wants a cup? You know you all do, come on, admit it. My coffee is the best. That crap Catherine gets at Starbucks doesn't hold a candle to this beautiful blend."

"Aw, Greg's having a love affair. Too bad it's with a bag of beans. Beats the blow-up doll, though, eh?" Nick thoroughly enjoyed teasing Greg, especially since Greg seemed to actually enjoy being teased. Sara was more than happy that everyone's attention was on Greg and that she could enjoy a bit of laughter even with the foster parenting idea weighing on her mind. She busied herself getting out the mugs while Greg poured. Sara marveled at how strong a family her little team was; in her childhood home, her parents didn't know each other's preferences, except when it came to choice methods of abuse and punishment, yet here at the lab, she and Greg knew which coffee mug each team member preferred, along with how much cream and sugar, if any, to add to each mug. She smiled to herself as she thought that if they all knew each other so well, when she and Grissom brought up their crazy scheme, they'd take it in stride and be supportive, or so she hoped. _God, this is crazy. What am I ever going to say?_

Catherine made her entrance just as Greg had finished stirring 3 Splenda's into her mug, so he handed it over and everyone sat down, Nick and Ray on the sofa, Sara in a seat at the table, and Greg on the table, to receive instructions for the evening. "Oh, thanks, Greg, this is just what I needed," Catherine commented as her team sat down.

"Anything for you, my dear," responded Greg with a smile. "Happy Mother's Day."

"Yeah, thanks, I don't know about that. I ended up taking Lindsey's cell when we were out to dinner and telling her she couldn't have it back for a week because she spent the first hour of our time together doing nothing but texting her equally bored friends. She's a bit pissed. Nothing like getting the silent treatment on Mother's Day. I mean, I expect it from her most days, but you think she could handle spending time with me and being nice to me for a few hours on Mother's Day. Anyway, let's see… Greg, Ray, you two and I are headed to Henderson for a triple homicide. Sophia's meeting us there and David's already on his way. Sara, Nicky, DB in a bathroom at the Luxor. Good luck. Bathrooms have to be the worst damn place for collecting extraneous evidence. Oh, and Brass and Doc Robbins will meet you there."

Sara's heart sank a bit. She had really been hoping to work solo tonight. But hey, being paired with Nick was always nice, especially since it was a rare treat now that Nick was mentoring Ray and spent most of his shifts working with him. Nick grabbed their assignment slip as Sara stood up.

"Ready, partner?" Nick grinned at her and offered his arm. Sara rolled her eyes at his feigned chivalry, took his arm anyway, and smiled. "You betcha, partner."

A few hours later, Doc Robbins had left with the body of a young, platinum blond stripper, Brass had headed back to PD to question the business man who had been renting the room, and Sara and Nick had finished photo-documenting the entire bathroom. Sara stood up from the squatting position she had been holding as she dusted the faucet on the tub for prints and caught Nick staring at her. He realized he'd been caught, and said, "Sorry, Sar, but is something up with you tonight? You're just really quiet. I'm just trying to get a read on you, that's all." Knowing that Sara was never one to answer a question about her well-being with anything other than a dishonest, "I'm fine," Nick didn't even wait for an answer. He simply added, "Hey, if you wanna tell me anything, I'll be stuck dismantling this damn vanity for a while longer. You know where to find me." He turned back to the vanity, kneeled down, and stuck his head under the sink to work out how to dismantle the pipes.

Sara smiled at Nick's backside. She loved how he did that- showed he cared without being overbearing. _Maybe it wouldn't hurt to tell Nick. We're going to tell everyone at the end of shift anyway as long as no one ends up having to pull a double. _"Hey, Nick?" Sara queried softly.

Nick popped his head back out from under the sink. "Yeah? Got something?"

"No. Well, yeah, I guess. I've pulled 47 smudges off the tub so far. I doubt they'll get us anywhere. But, hey, can I run a crazy idea past you?" Sara leant against the wall (the one without the arterial spray on it), and stared at Nick with a silent, pleading look on her face.

A good friend knows that look. Nick knew Sara's crazy idea had nothing to do with their current scene and everything to do with her quiet demeanor tonight. "Sure, spill, girl. What's up?"

"Never mind. It's nothing. Sorry. Just go back to the drain." Sara clammed up. Her heart rate had increased significantly just considering telling Nick about fostering Nora. It had been hell rehashing her foster child days with Gil and she really didn't want to get into it with Nick. On the other hand, she really wanted to use him as a sounding board to see what kind of reaction she and Gil could expect from the rest of the team when they told them of their plan. As an argument raged in her head- should she or should she not tell Nick?- her face was riddled with frown lines and she was absent-mindedly massaging her temples.

Ever the observant gentleman, Nick immediately recognized Sara's intense confusion. Since the evidence wasn't going to be disappearing on him anytime soon, he stood up, grabbed Sara by the arm, and led her to the balcony of the hotel room (Sara had already processed the balcony and had come up empty-handed), where they both plopped into cheap plastic chairs. "Okay, Sara, out with it. I'm not clueless. You're either going to have to tell me what's bothering you, or I might just have to call Catherine and tell her to take you off this case. You're too distracted. You're going to end up contaminating evidence unless you get this off your chest." Nick knew that implying that Sara couldn't do her job, however little he believed that to be true, would anger her just enough to let go of her inhibition to talk about whatever it was that was bugging her. His little trick worked.

Sara crossed her arms and started at Nick for a couple of long seconds. Finally, she let out a long breath. "Fine, Nick. You're right. I need to talk, but not because you want me to. I need to do this for me. It's just that I don't know where to start or what to say. It's just kind of crazy, really, but on the other hand, part of me feels like it's the sanest thing I've ever wanted to do."

"Well, spit it out already. What exactly do you want to do that's so crazy? Go bull running in Spain?"

Sara smiled. "Not quite that crazy. Gil and I, well Gil, really, had an idea. We talked about it all day, which is why I'm so damned tired. He wants to, well we want to," Sara averted her eyes away from Nick's face as she finally spit out the words, "become foster parents to Nora Pennington. There. Crazy, huh? But, Nick, we can do this. We can."

Nick was stunned, not in a bad way, but still just too stunned to respond right away. Sara took that as an indication that he really did think she and Grissom were off their rockers.

"Nick, please, don't think we're crazy. You do remember Nora Pennington, don't you? The twelve year old girl whose mom…"

"…murdered her dad and then shot herself?" Nick finished Sara's sentence for her and continued, "That was what, about half a year ago?" Looking Sara straight in the eyes, he added in a quiet voice, "Her case really hit home with you, didn't it?"

Sara looked away. Everyone knew she struggled with abuse cases. They just didn't know why. Still. She didn't know why, really, she was so afraid of telling anyone. She knew her team well enough that they'd not think differently of her if she told them. She trusted her little lab family with her life, but she never could bear to trust them with her childhood secret. It looked like the time had come to open up a bit. She was just scared of the pity. She never did want to be pitied. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye, and she quickly stood up against the balcony railing and stared vacantly out at the city lights.

"Yeah, it did hit home. That was the hardest case I've ever been on. Do you have any idea why?" Sara asked with her back still turned to her companion.

Nick made no effort to get into Sara's line of vision as he answered, "I've got my theories. We all have. You were abused when you were a kid, weren't you?"

"Yes, but Nick, that's just the tip of the iceberg." Sara was speaking so quietly that Nick had to stand up next to her to even hope to hear her over the noises from the street below them. "When I was nine, my mom stabbed my dad to death. He was drunk and dangerous. He had been abusing my mom, my brother, and me for as long as I could remember. My mom went to jail. My brother and I were sent to live with different foster families. I haven't seen my mom or my brother since I was nine. I don't even know if they're alive." Tears were cascading fast and freely down Sara's cheeks. Nick said nothing, but folded her into his arms, where they stood for a long while until Sara's tears had stopped and she was no longer hiccoughing with every breath. "Thanks, Nick."

"Hey, girl, don't you thank me for a thing. What are friends for? I'm glad you finally told me about your past. That's a hell of a weight to be carrying around, you know? You can trust all of us, Sara."

"I know I can, Nick, but I don't want to be pitied. I never wanted Gil and I don't want Catherine to be afraid of putting me on abuse cases. I don't want to be different. Being 'the girl whose mom stabbed her dad to death' isn't who I want to be. I just want to be Sara Sidle, a girl without a shitty past."

"Yeah, I get that, but I won't pity you. I'm not gonna pretend I'm okay with the news, because I'm not. It's an awful feeling to find out you've been carrying such a secret with you all these years. It hurts me to know you were hurt like that. It kills me to know you grew up in foster homes and never had the family life I cherish, but I'm not going to treat you any differently because of it. You're still Sara Sidle, the strong, independent, beautiful, talented CSI I happen to be honored to call my friend. Cool?"

Sara gave a weak smile and nodded.

"Now what about this whole becoming foster parents thing?" Nick was finally able to wrap his head around what Sara had said before admitted to her past. "You're really going to try to foster Nora Pennington, huh? She seemed like a cute kid."

"Do you think we can do it, Nick?"

"Course I do. You'd be a good mother."

"Really? You don't think there's a violence gene? I'm scared, Nick, but on the other hand, I really, really want to do this. Nora's been in five foster homes in the past seven months. That's torture to her, I'm sure. I've been there. She needs someone strong to protect her and take care of her. I want to say that can be me."

"Sara, I can't think of anyone better to be a strong caregiver."

The two teammates continued talking for a few minutes. Sara's confidence was growing every minute knowing that Nick genuinely felt she and Grissom could be good foster parents. Nick didn't pry, knowing he'd get more information out of Sara about the particulars when she and Grissom addressed the team as Sara told him they were planning on doing. Eventually, they worked their way back to their crime scene in the bathroom, where Nick finished dismantling the drain and jarring the pinkish water nestled in the u-bend and where Sara finally finished lifting prints, partials, and smudges. After being cooped up in the bathroom for over six hours, Sara and Nick were finally able to bag their last pairs of gloves, close up their field kits, and walk out the door.

On their way back to the lab, Sara called Catherine to see when she'd be back at the lab with Ray and Greg and then called Grissom to tell him to meet her at work. It was nearly time to confront the team with a major question.


	5. Letting the Lab Crew In: May 2011

Notes: Thanks to all of you for your continued interest in A Different Kind of Family. I know you want to meet Nora, and I am so glad you're curious about her character and about how this whole foster parenting thing will really work out, but your wait for Nora will have to be as long and torturous as Grissom's and Sara's! Truth is, becoming a foster parent takes nearly two months, but she'll show up soon, possibly in chapter 7. Keep reading and reviewing; your comments have been helping me shape this story.

CSICSICSICSICSI

Nick pulled into the LVPD's parking garage just moments after Grissom had. Nick's face broke out in a grin at the sight of his friend, but Sara's broke out in a grimace as the reality of the impending team conversation hit hard. Grissom and Sara not being ones for public displays of affection, Sara appreciated Gil's quick hug and peck on the cheek all the more. Grissom and Nick were closing the space between their cars and the door engaged in talking about Grissom's unexpected presence in Vegas when Catherine's SUV pulled into the lot. _Great. A parking garage reunion. This isn't exactly the place I had in mind to talk to the team. _Grissom seemed to know what Sara was thinking, took her hand, and whispered to her, "Don't worry. Everything's going to be fine." Sara smiled at him as Catherine, Greg, and Ray spotted them.

Greg came bounding over, calling, "Sara, you sly dog! You never said Griss would be here tonight. Here you had us all believing he wasn't going to be in Vegas 'til next weekend!" He clapped Grissom on the shoulder and started jabbering on about a retired entomology professor he had had to consult with on a case in Grissom's absence, but was interrupted by Catherine, who greeted Gil with a wink, and Ray, who smiled broadly and greeted Grissom as a friend, even though they'd only met a few times. It was always nice to see the old team back together again.

After all the routine pleasantries, Grissom stated, "Why don't you all head in to log your evidence and then make your way to the break room. If I know you all well enough, none of you have actually taken a break yet this shift, so you're long overdue. I'll steal Sara from Nick and she and I will be waiting in the break room. Nick, is that okay with you?"

"Course. I'll see you two lovebirds in a few." Grinning, Nick headed inside, closely followed by the rest of his team and their old leader extraordinaire. Catherine detoured to the morgue, Greg stopped off at A/V, Ray made his way to Trace, and Nick headed off to DNA, leaving Sara and Grissom alone for the last stretch of hallway leading to the break room.

They headed into the empty room. Sara set the coffee maker to brew, and then sat down across from Grissom at the table. Their eyes met. Neither said anything, but each felt the other's discomfort and concern. Sara reached across the table for Grissom's hand and as she held it, she rubbed gentle circles over his palm with her thumb. Sara said, "At least we know Nick doesn't think we're crazy, or at least that he's too nice to admit it. Do you think they'll help us?"

"'It is not so much our friends' help that helps us as the confident knowledge that they will help us.'"

"Socrates?" Sara queried with an eye roll. Gil really did have a quote for everything.

"Epicurus, dear."

"Epi-who?" Catherine remarked as she sauntered into the break room. Not getting a response, she, too, rolled her eyes. Plopping down on the sofa, she asked, "So, are you here to talk about your 'crazy plan?'"

Grissom had had to give Catherine at least an inkling of what he was doing when he had called to ask if he could hang out at her house for a few hours while he waited for Sara to call after getting the FedEx packet of foster parenting paperwork. She had been dying for the moment to come when he would actually tell her what his plan really was. It seemed like the time was coming, and Catherine was all ears.

The three sat in comfortable silence, each nursing a mug of steaming coffee until Nick, Greg, and Ray arrived.

Once everyone had made themselves comfortable, they all eyed Grissom. He rarely just popped into the lab to say hello, and he surely didn't ask them all to meet in the break room anymore. Grissom sensed everyone's curiosity, and after looking at Sara and her white, clammy skin and realizing she wasn't exactly ready to talk, he cleared his throat and began, "Uh, well, it's nice to be home. It's always good to see friends. I, uh, well, I'll just try to get to the point. Sara and I have been concerned about Nora Pennington since her mother shot her father and then committed suicide seven months ago. I know you all remember the case."

Catherine looked extremely confused. She had been hoping for some exciting news, not a case conversation. Nick nodded, knowing exactly what Grissom was bringing up the case for. Ray and Greg looked at each other with raised eyebrows, then back at Grissom, with an "Of course" and a "Yea." Sara stared resolutely at the tabletop. She was so not ready to get into her past, and yet, she knew it was coming. She gripped Gil's hand tighter and forced herself not to get teary-eyed already.

"Well, we've kept track of Nora since she was placed into the foster care system and we've agreed that the course her life is taking is not acceptable. She's been in five different foster homes over the last seven months. Sara and I have researched and discussed the only choice that seems reasonable to us to keep Nora safe and to help her begin to heal from her horrific past. We would like to become her foster parents."

Catherine's mouth was wide open. Nick was smiling gently at Sara even though she was still staring at the table. Ray and Greg looked at each other with raised eyebrows and shrugged. The silence was deafening as everyone digested this thought and tried to formulate responses to such an unexpected confession. Catherine was, characteristically, the first to break the silence.

"What? Gil, are you serious? Why now? Why Nora? Since when did you want to be a father? I'm sorry, but you're awfully old to start being a dad now, don't you think? I mean, what's got you so interested in the Pennington case? Yeah, it was awful, but you didn't even work it. You were in Paris!"

Realization hit Greg, who commented, "Yeah, he was, but he flew home the day after we got the case. He even sat at the lab for all of Sara's shifts while she worked the case. The case was…" Greg glanced at Sara's bowed head and stopped talking. He didn't want to be the one to bring up how badly affected Sara had been by that case.

"The case was hard for her. Harder than most. Maybe the hardest one of all." Catherine was never one to shy away from speaking the truth. "Look, Gil, we all know Sara has a hard time dealing with abuse cases. Care to tell us why? Care to tell us why you suddenly want to take an abuse victim into your home? You do know this kid has probably been shipped off to five different foster homes for a reason, right? I mean, the kid's got to have some major issues. What if she's violent? What if she's too damaged to repair?"

Catherine had failed to notice that Sara was becoming more and more agitated as she spoke. Grissom had moved to her side of the table and was standing behind her. Nick had slipped into the spot across the table from Sara when Grissom had vacated it, and he became the one to hold her hand. Greg had moved closer to Sara, with concern etched all over his features, and Ray remained where he had been the whole time, silently willing Catherine to shut up. Sara finally looked up.

With a quavering voice, Sara spoke. "Don't talk about me like I'm not sitting right here, Catherine. I'll tell you why, okay? But you, all of you, better promise not to pity me for it." She looked at each of her colleagues with a defiant expression, daring any of them to take pity on her for the secret she was about to reveal, but she quickly stopped scowling and looked down at the table as she continued in a monotone, as though to make her secret less interesting or important, "My childhood was very similar to Nora's. My dad was an abusive drunk. He physically, emotionally, and sexually abused my mom and me. My brother tried to protect me from the sexual abuse and he oftentimes succeeded at the expense of having physical pain doled out to him. One time, our dad broke Benny's wrist in three places because he wouldn't let dad into my room. Eventually, one night when I was nine, my mom grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed my dad to death. My mom was taken into custody and then sent to a mental institution. My brother and I were separated and placed in different foster homes. I haven't seen either of them since. From the time I was nine to when I was sixteen and declared emancipated from the state, I lived in eleven different foster homes. I can't take away the abuse Nora's endured, and I can't make her parents' deaths any less tragic, but I hope I can spare her from years of being shuffled, unloved, from foster home to foster home. There. How's that for an explanation?" Sara glared directly at Catherine, who, like everyone else in the room, was stunned and at a loss for words.

Catherine looked from Gil, who was massaging Sara's shoulders and staring down at her, to Sara, who was still glaring straight at her. She said, "Uh, wow, Sara, I had my suspicions, but I had no idea. I just didn't know."

Greg moved over to Sara and pulled her up from her chair to nearly strangle her in a bear hug. "I knew your childhood was far from great, seeing as the only memories you've ever shared with me are from your college years on. Didn't you have a grandma and grandpa to take care of you? I don't know what I'd have done without Papa and Nana Olaf, and I had parents, too." His words sounded so cruel, but Sara knew he meant no harm, so she answered.

"I had one grandma in San Francisco, but she was in a nursing home. I had one uncle, but he was in Cincinnati, had four kids of his own, and was divorced, so my case worker didn't think it'd be a great placement for me. I have to agree. I'd never even met my uncle, and he was my father's brother, so I'd have been terrified he'd be like my dad. That's it, though. No other family. Nora doesn't have any other family members to take her in, either. Her maternal grandparents are alive, but live in a retirement community in Arizona. Her paternal grandmother has dementia and her paternal grandfather is dead. Her parents were both only children, like herself. She's alone."

"Wow, that's awful." Catherine seemed hesitant to say what was on her mind, but drove on. "I just don't know if you should be her foster mom, Sara. Wait a minute- before you yell at me, hear me out. Your histories are too similar. Won't having Nora around make you have to relive everything you went through and have obviously tried so hard to hide for so many years? I mean, when did you even get the courage and have the trust to even tell just Gil about your past? We saved your life after Natalie abducted you, and you still didn't trust us enough to tell us about your past. Why are you going to suddenly be okay with staring your past in the face every minute of every day?"

Ray spoke up for the first time. He had been feeling like an outsider in the conversation. He knew Sara, yes, but not as well as the rest of the team, and he hardly knew Grissom at all. He felt he shouldn't be a part of this, but knew Sara and Grissom were both much too polite to ask him to leave. "You know, I need to go check in with Hodges." Ray stepped out into the hallway, where he came face to face with Jim Brass.

"Hey, Grissom left me a message a while back asking me to come to the break room. Is he actually in there? I thought he wasn't supposed to be in town until next weekend." Brass answered himself as he looked through the blinds and saw his CSI family assembled in the break room, Grissom included.

Brass looked at Langston with a raised eyebrow as if to ask why everyone looked so stressed, and Ray simply said, "You'll have to go see for yourself."

Brass walked in to hearing Grissom answering Catherine's questions. "Catherine, you're right. Having Nora in our home will force Sara to constantly stare her past in the face, but Nora's case has been eating away at Sara's entire being since she was taken away to be a ward of the state. She's already had nightmares about her past and about Nora's past and future. She's already had to face her memories many more days that she'd ever have liked to. Simply processing the scene was more than enough to bring back Sara's past, and knowing that Nora has been sentenced to finish her childhood in much the same way she did has been hurting Sara a lot. It's been hurting me to see Sara in such pain, and watching that child walk out of her with a case worker after questioning with such a sad, lonely look on her face has been haunting my dreams more often than I care to admit."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Nora? As in Nora Pennington? In your home? What the heck is going on here?" Brass was anxious to get up to speed on the goings-on in the break room and was angry with himself for taking his good old time getting up here.

Nick saved Grissom the trouble of going through it again by responding to Brass, "Yeah. Griss and Sara are wanting to become Nora's foster parents to get her out of moving from place to place so often. Sara had a rough past. Ask her about it if you want, but just rest assured, they've got good reason to want to do this for Nora. Well, guys, I think you can handle it. Griss, will you be home more often? I mean, I just don't know if Sara should be a single mom. Catherine knows how hard that is and she's had Lindsey since birth."

"Yes, I'll be home. I've decided to take a full-time teaching position at UNLV." Grissom's remark was met with broad smiles and exclamations of congratulations and surprise from everyone.

Greg gave Sara puppy dog eyes and whined, "Aw, man, but now I'm not going to be allowed to flirt with you anymore."

His antics earned him an eye roll and even a smile from Sara. She responded with a laugh, "Well, a little flirting can't hurt. It might be nice to have a jealous husband!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay. So Gil's gonna be home." Brass was too curious about the whole foster parenting thing to be sidetracked by Grissom's job change. "Here's my question. You two are the two most private, self-contained people I've ever met. What made you tell us you want to foster instead of actually just doing it? I mean, Sara, you seem more the type who'd just waltz in here one day saying, 'Oh, sorry I'm late, I was just dropping my new kid off at a friend's house for the night.' There's gotta be a catch."

Grissom had to laugh. It really was true. They were probably a bit too private, truth be told. "Well, we told you because we need you."

"How?" asked Greg.

Sara continued, "Well, in order for us to become foster parents, we have to go through a massive process that'll take six-eight weeks involving all sorts of paperwork, interviews, this thing called a SAFE home study, and recommendations from you guys. If you'll let us, we'll have Nora's case worker, Janet Vickers, who has agreed to be part of our evaluation team from the Department of Child Welfare, send you a questionnaire about us. I think it'll be some multiple choice about everything from whether our home is safe for a child to whether or not you think our relationship is stable. I think it'll have some short essay kind of questions in it, too. So," Sara looked earnestly around at everyone, a pleading expression on her face, "Will you do it? Will you help us?"

"Well, I mean, I don't know about how safe your house is with Grissom's tarantula running around, but sure. You know I'd do anything for you." Greg gave Sara another hug and Grissom smiled fondly at him.

"Count me in. I can't wait to see what this questionnaire asks about you two. I just hope it doesn't ask me to get into your sex life. I already have to relive that conversation with Hodges about Gil's mad desire for sexually adventurous women in my nightmares often enough." Catherine smiled at Sara and Gil and continued, "I hear you two have great sex and all. I just hope it's not affected by bringing a kid into your house. Lindsey sure did change everything for me and Eddie when we brought her home. Of course, I assume Nora's old enough to sleep through the night."

Nick and Brass readily consented to receiving a questionnaire, too, and eventually, shift was over and Sara and Grissom were ready to head home. They parted ways in the hallway, Grissom heading to his car, and Sara to Fingerprints to check in with Mandy before she left. Before she walked away, Grissom said, "Now, we just have to tell my mom. I'll see you at home, honey."

"Oh, God."


	6. Confronting Betty: May 2011

Notes: Thanks for sticking with A Different Kind of Family. I wrote Betty Grissom into this chapter, and hope I've done a decent job catching her personality. Since we only met her in one episode of CSI and since a little time has passed between that episode and this story, it was hard to be sure of her characterization.

CSICSICSICSICSI

Sara and Grissom had agreed to get some sleep before trying to contact Grissom's mom over Skype. It was anyone's guess as to how this conversation would go, and Sara didn't think it would be brilliant to talk her into agreeing with their foster parenting plan while she was so deeply exhausted. Plus, she really just wanted a little time to share the bed with a warm, human body for a change.

With Hank begrudgingly closed out of the bedroom, Sara and Grissom collapsed into bed. Neither even had the energy to change into pajamas or to close the blackout shades, so they slept, nestled into each other's bodies in their rumpled, and in Sara's case, smelly from work, clothes with a large sunbeam shining brightly across their midsections.

Hours later, Grissom awoke to Sara's soft, even breathing. Contentedly, he listened to her sleep and propped himself up on an elbow to watch her chest rise and fall and to stare at the sweet, relaxed expression on her face. Eventually, Sara seemed to sense she was being watched and opened one tired eye.

"Gil? What are you doing?" She smiled as she spoke, and rubbed sleep out of her eyes.

"Watching you sleep. Is that a crime?" He sat fully upright and stretched. "Sleep well?"

"Like a rock. It's so nice to have you home. Are you really going to stay forever?" Sara's voice reflected concern that his permanent position at the university was a fragment of a dream she'd just had.

"You know I'd have stayed forever anytime you asked, Sara, don't you?" Grissom's eyes were full of concern; he had interpreted her tone of voice correctly.

"I know, but I never wanted to ask you to. We were fine. You loved me, I loved you, we were happy. In fact, it was kind of nice to only see you every couple of weeks because every time we'd reunite, I'd be floored with the realization of how much I had missed you and how much I needed you. Well, that, and I couldn't wait to take you to bed." Sara smirked playfully with her last comment.

"My sentiments exactly. It'll be odd for us to have a typical marriage, although I suppose adding Nora into our lives won't exactly quantify our home life as normal, will it?"

"Doubt it." Sara sighed deeply. "What time is it?"

"Um," Grissom turned around to peek at the alarm clock, "6:11."

"Should we just get this over with?"

Grissom could be a bit clueless sometimes. "Get what over with?" He was hoping she was referring to a certain bedroom activity that was a bit more active than sleeping, but he wouldn't have referred to making love as something to just get over with.

Sara was shaking her head and laughing. "Really, Gil. I know what you're thinking, but that's not what I meant. I was referring to talking to your mom about Nora. I think we'd better do it now before I chicken out and make you talk to her while I'm at work." She slid around behind Grissom and started rubbing his back, adding, "That's not to say I'm not interested in what you're thinking. Let's just save it for after I've stopped freaking out about talking to your mom, okay?"

"Yes, dear. This probably is the perfect time to call her, too. She should be settling down to watch Wheel of Fortune, which means she'll be close to her computer."

Sara was not in any hurry to talk to her mother-in-law. Their relationship was, well, interesting. Ever since the deaf college crime and subsequent fight and reconciliation between them, Betty Grissom and Sara had made an effort to meet each other every other week or so for dinner even if Gil wasn't in town, but they were still a long way from being best friends. They both loved Gil, that much was always clear, so they made the effort to get to know and like each other for his sake. Sara thought, overall, that Betty was a wonderfully sweet, caring individual, but she still had a hard time really enjoying her company because even though Betty was the nicest individual anyone _else_ would ever want to meet, Sara had taken her baby away from her and, as if that wasn't a big enough crime, Sara was fifteen years younger than Gil, was nearly young enough to be her granddaughter, and that was a fact that Betty didn't deal well with. She made Sara uncomfortable at least once every time they were together by talking about hers and Grissom's sex life and demanding a grandchild. Sara had tried time and time again to explain that she and Grissom weren't going to have kids, and she had even made Grissom sit down and talk to his mother about that fact, but Betty persisted anyway.

Sara was determined not to shy away from this conversation with Betty, so taking the bull by the horns, she sat up straight and said, "Okay, well, you go get Skype up and running and I'll change into something presentable. I don't want to be wearing wrinkled, smelly clothes when we talk to your mom."

"I hardly think Mom will be able to smell your clothes. Besides, they don't smell that bad. You weren't on the decomp case."

"I know, but I was in the morgue at the same time David happened to be washing off Miss Eau de Decomp, and you're just being nice. I smell like death. Literally."

"Well, okay, I'll admit to being ready to change the sheets as soon as you hopped in the shower, but I wasn't going to say anything." Gil was grinning as he teased his wife. Sara smiled back.

"You're impossible." Sara moved toward the master bathroom. "I guess I'll grab a quick shower then."

With an arched eyebrow, hopeful expression, Grissom responded with, "Can I join you?"

"No! Oh my God, Gil, your mother insists on talking about our sex life every freaking time I see her. I can just picture the comments she'd throw at me if we both showed up on Skype with wet hair. She'd know!"

"Is that a problem? If I remember correctly from your many reports, Mom is always trying to make sure we're having enough sex, right? The assumption that we showered together could alleviate some of her worrying." Grissom's smile broadened as Sara's eyes widened in horror at the thought.

"Argh! Can you really picture having to say, 'Yes, Mom, Sara and I did just have sexual relations in the shower, thanks for asking. Yes, Mom, it was lovely. I highly doubt it resulted in the creation of a grandchild for you, however. Yes, Mom, we'll keep you posted on the details of our non-procreating sexual adventures if you'd like." Sara and Grissom were both laughing at Sara's mocking voice and ridiculous comments.

"Okay, seriously, I'm going to grab a 10 minute shower. Set up Skype. I really, really want to get this over with."

"Sara?"

Sara was already in the bathroom, but Grissom heard a murmured, "Hmm?"

"We don't have to tell Mom about your childhood. She doesn't need to know. She's not a CSI. She won't guess."

"Really? Sara popped her head out of the bathroom as she pulled her shirt off over her head. "You don't think she'll wonder why we chose Nora? You don't think she'll think it's ridiculous for us to foster in the first place?"

"No, I don't. Just follow my lead. Go on, now, get in the shower. I'll make us a quick dinner, and before you remind me again, don't worry, I won't forget about Skype."

Twenty minutes later, Sara was clean and dressed and she and Grissom had hastily consumed caprese salad with sliced French bread. Sara was fidgeting nervously with the pen she had picked up from where it had been resting on top of the morning's crossword from the newspaper. Grissom dialed his mom's number on Skype.

In her home, while pouring a cup of tea between commercials, Betty Grissom felt the subtle vibration coming from her computer. Excitement lit up her face at the prospect of talking to Gil or even to Sara. As she turned on her webcam, she was shocked to see both her son and Sara together on her computer screen. She beamed at both of them and signed, "I'm so glad to see you both! Did you get home to Sara early, Gil, or have I aged so much that I lost track of time?"

Pleased to see Betty so obviously happy to see them, Gil signed and spoke, "I did come home early. Sara and I needed face-to-face time to talk. We have news to share with you." Sara waved hello and stared unblinkingly at Betty's hands, afraid to miss a sign, as her own signing and comprehension of ASL was merely proficient, not perfect.

"News?" Betty's face was alit with excitement. "A grandchild?"

Sara signed back. "Of sorts."

"What?" Betty looked at her son to see if Sara had mis-signed her words.

Gil answered with his fingers, "Of sorts, Mom."

"How do you mean?"

Grissom paused, thought, and chose his words carefully. He both spoke and signed as he said, "Mom, I love traveling, but I love Sara more. I want to be home with her. I contacted UNLV to ask for a permanent teaching position and they gave one to me." Grissom smiled at his mom as he watched the pride brighten her features over the webcam.

"Oh, Gil, honey, that's wonderful! What will you be teaching?"

"Entomology, forensic science, biology, and possibly British Literature. I won't teach all of those simultaneously. We haven't created a schedule yet. I think I will offer a lecture series on the insect world over the summer to start with."

"Your father would have been proud, Gilbert."

"I know, Mom." Grissom was smiling affectionately at his mom and Sara was smiling affectionately at him. Betty suddenly went from looking proud and pleased to confused.

She asked, "Wait, how does this mean I'll be getting a grandchild of sorts?"

Again Grissom paused momentarily to gather his thoughts. He and Sara shared a look which clearly depicted their mutual nervousness at the moment. Under the table, Sara gave Grissom's hand a quick, affectionate squeeze. She smiled at him to urge him to continue. She watched Betty's face as Grissom signed to her, "Mom, we know you've always wanted grandchildren. We enjoy children and have often wished we were young enough to feel comfortable having children of our own. We still firmly stand by our decision to not have a baby. However, a very different and unique opportunity for parenting has presented itself to us and taken hold of our imaginations. We have discussed and agreed upon becoming foster parents."

Sara had watched as her mother-in-law's face had turned gone from confused to sympathetic, to annoyed, to downright shocked. "Foster parents? What? Gilly, what are you talking about?"

Grissom grimaced at his mom's use of "Gilly." He had even hated being called that as a young child. "Yes, foster parents. In our line of work, we are unfortunate enough to see children become wards of the state and sent off to foster homes following tragic family accidents. It's a very hurtful thing to witness."

"I'm sure it is, but you're not even in that line of work anymore." Betty seemed to be pleading with her son to come to his senses, but he ploughed on.

"That's irrelevant. You know I've been where Sara is now for many, many years, and it is very relevant that Sara is still witnessing these sad events on a daily basis. Moving on, Mom, about seven months ago, we met a heartbroken twelve year old girl named Nora after her parents died. She was broken to the point that she refused to speak. Sara was able to get Nora to talk to her, and was even able to get Nora to smile, albeit for only a few seconds. Sara felt a strong connection with Nora, and I was fortunate enough to watch one of the exchanges between them when I came to bring Sara dinner at the lab one evening. We believe firmly that Nora would add a level of fulfillment and joy to our lives that we've previously not been privy to experiencing. We would like you to be a part of Nora's life as well."

Silence. Sara stared at Betty. Sara's face reflected concern and agitation. Betty stared at Grissom. Her face reflected concern, agitation, and confusion. Grissom took it in turns to watch each of the women in his life as they struggled with the conversation. His face reflected calm. As Sara stole a quick glance at him, she had to suppress a smile as she thought of how characteristically perfect it was for her husband to be calm right now. She half expected an ancient Greek quote on family life to pour forth from his mouth, but Grissom merely sat quietly, watching and waiting for one of the women to respond.

The silence became unbearable, so Sara tentatively signed, "Well?"

Betty responded, "Well, I think you might be clinically insane. Do you really think it will be easier to parent a damaged twelve year old than an infant of your own?"

Sara responded, "No, we don't, but we think we can be the family Nora needs, and we are NOT going to have a baby of our own. Take it or leave it, this is the only way you'll get a grandchild, and I'm sorry, but there are no guarantees that Nora will legally become your grandchild, either. Adoption is an eventual goal for a child like Nora who has no biological family to reunite with, but that does not mean Gil and I will become her adoptive parents. We're currently open to that idea, but none of us know what the future will hold or what this experience will be like. You don't have to be a part of it. It's your choice to make."

She had been a bit more brusque than she had wanted to be. She had only managed to sign about half of her words, but Gil had delivered the few words Sara had not been able to sign that Betty had not caught by lip-reading. More silence ensued. This time, it was Grissom's turn to squeeze Sara's hand under the table. He thought she had spoken well.

Eventually, Betty stopped glaring at Sara. She moved on to looking incredulously at both Sara and her son. Finally, she signed, "I would love to meet Nora."

Sara visibly relaxed. Grissom smiled and signed, "Thank you."

Betty signed back, "I still think you're crazy."

Grissom and Sara both smiled and Sara signed back, "We probably are."


	7. Ready for Nora: June 2011

Notes: Thank you all so, so, so much for sticking with A Different Kind of Family. I know you are all impatiently waiting to meet Nora, and I am glad you're as excited to meet her as I am. I couldn't decide whether or not to write her into this chapter or to wait until next. I literally wrote six different versions of this chapter. I hope you like the one I chose. I don't know how well the emotions will come through to you in my writing, but I literally felt sick to my stomach at the end of writing this chapter; I was so nervous for Sara. Anyway, enough rambling. I do hope you enjoy this chapter. Please let me know how I did. Thanks!

CSICSICSICSICSI

This was it. Today was the day. In forty-five minutes, Grissom and Sara were scheduled to walk into the lab. Not to work. To pick up Nora. Their new foster child.

Their application had been signed and sent in. The reference questionnaires from their lab family and Grissom's mom had been turned in. Their personal histories questionnaires had been turned in. A matronly old woman from Child and Family Services had completed the SAFE family inventory with them and had deemed them worthy of being Nora's substitute parents. Nora's current foster family gladly relinquished guardianship responsibilities.

The conversations had been had time and time again with Betty Grissom and the lab crew. The questions had been answered. The comments had been accepted. The confusion had been transformed to acceptance, even approval. Sara had shared more about her past than she had ever wanted to.

Sara had gone through hell. Grissom had gone through hell watching Sara go through hell. Her struggle with the nightmares, the memories, the fear was heartbreaking to him.

The two of them had gone shopping, Grissom grudgingly tagging along as he and Sara had wandered the aisles in search of items Sara insisted they needed for Nora. There had been the new sheets for Nora's bed. The consideration Sara gave to thread count, satin vs. cotton, and precise color had worn on Grissom's nerves (was there really a difference between bright white and pristine white?). There had been the i-pod. Sara had mulled over pink vs. white, nano vs. touch, ear buds vs. headphones for over an hour. Grissom had patiently given his input when asked and had gladly handed over his debit card when a choice had finally been made. There had been the toiletries. Grissom had had no idea it was possible to deliberate over toothbrushes for thirty minutes. Shampoo had taken even longer.

The trip to Barnes and Noble had been a different story altogether. Grissom had been equally vested in the choosing of a proper assortment of books for their foster daughter. Sara had chosen a few best-selling teenage fiction novels and a beautiful hard-covered journal, complete with lock and key. Grissom had selected a couple non-fiction titles, and though he had argued for An Introduction to Entomology, Sara had coerced him into shelving his preferred title and choosing something a bit less "Grissom-esque."

The trip to the local department store had been a disaster. Sara had been plagued with a belief that Nora would come to them with nothing but a garbage bag of poorly fitting clothes, as had been her plight when she had arrived at all of her foster homes. Try as Grissom might to convince Sara that the clothes Nora had from her original home were plentiful and probably still fit and regardless of the fact that Nora had left the lab with her first foster parents with two proper suitcases and a backpack, Sara had insisted on the clothes. The cart had been painstakingly filled with shirts, shorts, jeans, pajamas, underwear, all of which Sara was certain would fit Nora's slight frame perfectly. And then Sara had had a change of heart, insisting instead that Nora would be angry at them for assuming they knew her likes and dislikes and worse yet, for even thinking of buying her underwear. Grissom had had to bite his tongue.

And yet, after all the nightmares, all the planning, all the preparation, all the arguments, all the time Sara spent crying in Grissom's arms, all the tiresome conversations, the moment had come. It was high time for it, too. Considering the struggles Sara and Grissom had endured during the past six weeks while awaiting their foster parenting licensure, there had been more than a fair amount of giddy excitement and pleasurable conversation about the future of their family, and they were more impatient to bring Nora home than they had ever been to get a serial killer behind bars, and that was saying something.

"Oh my God, Gil, oh my God. I can't do this. What if I'm an awful mother? What the hell were we thinking?" Sara paced restlessly through the family room. She had not spent the morning sleeping, but had instead meticulously cleaned every surface in the townhouse, not caring that she'd done the same thing just yesterday. Every shred of laundry had been washed, folded, and put away. Fresh flowers were filling the kitchen with a heady scent. Nora's room was immaculate. The fridge had been stocked. Sara was left to pacing to release some of her nervous energy. Grissom's nervousness was not as obvious, but he didn't fool Sara for a moment- the way he surreptitiously glanced at the microwave's clock every sixty seconds and the fact that while he'd been "working" on his crossword for the past hour, but had only a handful of answers penciled in made it obvious to Sara that her husband was just as nervous as she was.

"Honey, calm down." Grissom set his crossword puzzle on the coffee table, and Sara promptly snatched it up and set it on an end table instead. Grissom chuckled to himself, simultaneously amazed that he hadn't gotten chastised for placing the puzzle in the "wrong" place, wondering what the difference was between the coffee table and the end table, and being amused at the crazy perfectionism the impending arrival of Nora had brought out in his wife.

"I can't calm down. Are you serious? Let's just go. Come on." Sara pulled Grissom up off the sofa.

He smirked as he replied, "In a hurry, are you?" Truth be told, if he had had to spend one more blasted minute pretending to work his crossword, he would have gone insane. "Come on, I'll drive."

Neither Sara nor Grissom had ever been so nervous stepping into the lab. Sure, they'd been nervous on their first days of work, but not this nervous. Sure, they'd experienced intense emotions at work, but those emotions were mainly terror, or anger, or a furious passion for justice. The butterflies they both felt now were something different and unique.

As the couple walked hand in hand past the reception desk, Nick joined them in the hallway as he came through a stairwell doorway, having just come up from the morgue. "So, the big day's here, huh?" Nick's grin couldn't seem to get big enough to express his excitement for his friends. "You ready? When will she be here? Can I be there, too?"

Grissom teased, "Geez, Nick. You're worse than Sara, and I wasn't sure that was possible."

Sara crossed her arms and dropped her jaw. Feigning annoyance, she griped, "Hey! You, mister, are just as nervous and excited as I am, and while you might be able to hide that from Nora, good luck hiding it from the guys. They know you." She smirked at Grissom in triumph and said to Nick, "She'll be here in twenty minutes. Oh, Dear God, twenty minutes to motherhood."

Catherine and Ray were in the break room when Grissom, Sara, and Nick stepped in to wait for the call to beckon them to the lobby. Sara was torn between feeling like she was going to vomit and wanting to hug everyone in the room. Grissom clutched his cell phone, which Judy had promised to call the moment Nora arrived, like a lifeline and didn't speak to anyone. Catherine texted Greg to join them; she knew Greg would be crushed if he missed "the moment."

As Greg was trying to convince Sara that Nora would probably not give her the silent treatment from the get-go, Grissom's phone rang. Silence fell immediately. A weak-kneed Sara stood up, wide-eyed and feeling sick to her stomach. Grissom stared down at his phone, almost disbelievingly, and then at Sara. He held the phone out to her with a look on his face that plainly asked, "Do you want to answer?" Sara shook her head no; she wasn't entirely sure she was capable of speech at the moment. Grissom flipped the phone open, held it up to his ear, and said, "We'll be right there."


	8. The Meeting: June 2011

Notes: Thank you all, as usual, for sticking with A Different Kind of Family. I am so excited to share this chapter with you. I hope you enjoy Nora's character. It took more editing than I care to admit to get this chapter to a place I was happy enough with to publish, and I definitely lost my muse here for a while, which explains the long wait for this chapter, and for that, I apologize! This chapter is pretty minutely detailed, but I really wanted to express the crazy roller coaster ride of emotions that everyone, particularly Nora, was experiencing. I hope you like it! Please leave me a review!

CSICSICSICSICSI

Everyone in the break room was silently staring at Grissom as he ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket. No one spoke as Grissom and Sara moved toward the door. Nick gave Grissom a pat on the back as Catherine pulled Sara in for a quick hug and whispered, "You'll be a great mom. I know it." As much as they wanted to follow and witness the meeting first hand, everyone tried to be content watching through the break room windows as Sara and Grissom made the short trip down the hall.

They saw Nora before she saw them. She was standing with her back to them, facing the entrance doors to the lab. Sara and Grissom, ever the investigators, quickly noted how Nora's shoulders were slumped forward, how her head was lowered, suggesting she was staring at the ground, and how the fingers of her left hand nervously fidgeted with a strap on the full-to-bursting monogrammed backpack she wore. She sure didn't look aggressive. Sad, dejected even, but her pose was hardly one belonging to the "violent child" Nora's other foster parents had labeled her as.

_We're both trained in weaponless defense anyway. What could she even do to us? For God's sake, Sidle, why are you thinking about weaponless defense at a time like this? _Sara was unnerved by the thoughts of self-protection running through her head. She had never even believed Nora was violent anyway; the Nora she had talked to just a day after her parents had died was a sweet, quiet, and exceptionally lonely child, not a raging storm of fists.

Grissom found he had no idea what to do with himself. He and Sara had talked time and time again about how Nora may feel frightened and unsafe around him merely because of his status as a male member of society, and they'd talked time and time again about how to deal with that situation, and yet, Grissom could recall nothing useful from their conversations. It had taken him seven years to make the monumental leap from loving Sara without acting on it to actually having a relationship with her. It had only taken him seven months to make a move to begin this relationship. At the moment, he thought he might need the extra six years, three and a half months before making the move to bring Nora into his life.

And then their time for thinking, reflecting, worrying was up. No more practicing their introductory conversations in their heads, no more hoping this would go well, no more wondering how Nora would feel. It was time.

CSICSICSICSICSI

Nora stood, facing the doors to the lab, her greenish-brown eyes on the floor in front of her. Her case worker, Janet, was standing beside her; a moment ago, Janet had placed her hand on Nora's shoulder, but Nora had shrugged it off irritably. Janet didn't love her; Nora wasn't even sure if Janet liked her, so she had no business comforting her. Besides, it's not like they hadn't been standing in this same place before. This was Nora's sixth time standing in this same spot, waiting for the next set of foster parents to pick her up, waiting for that God-awful moment when the new foster parents would set eyes on her, run their eyes up and down her form, taking in her long auburn hair, her lightly freckled skin, her slight and short build, appraising her worth, and sighing at the thought of being stuck with a pre-teen, damaged kid as a favor to the case worker. _Damn them all. _

While Nora was determined to hate every one of those foster parents who so readily wrote her off as a lost cause before she even got in their cars for the first times, she was secretly hoping that this time was going to be different. She had been told four days ago that Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom had asked to be her foster parents. Sara Sidle. The Sara Sidle. Sara was the only one who understood what she had gone through. Sara worked for the crime lab that took her parents' case. Sara had talked to her instead of drilling her with questions. Sara had told her that she had been there, and while she had at first scoffed at Sara's assertion that she knew what she was going through, after listening to Sara tell her about how her mom had killed her dad, she believed that Sara _did_ know and that Sara _did_ care. Plus, she and her husband _asked_ to take her into their family. _They actually want me. _

Nora was startled from her thoughts as she heard a voice. She had no more time for practicing the initial conversation in her head, wondering what Sara and Gil would be like, hoping that this time, things would be different. It was time.

CSICSICSICSICSI

"Nora?" Sara quietly called out to her new foster daughter.

Nora visibly startled at hearing her name. Time seemed to be moving in slow motion as Nora froze momentarily and then turned slowly to face her sixth set of foster parents. _Oh my God, oh my God, is it really Sara? Will she like me? _

Nora's eyes skipped over Grissom and met Sara's. Her eyes lit up with apparent gladness, but she had trouble extending her appreciation of Sara's presence to her mouth; try as she might, Nora couldn't smile. Instead, she found the corners of her mouth turning down, and suddenly, tears began to fall, thick and fast.

Nora had not cried in front of anyone since her parents had died. Sure, she had cried herself to sleep nearly every night since her life was turned upside down almost nine months ago, but she had never, NEVER, allowed herself to let her guard down in front of any of them- the lawyers, the child welfare people, Janet, any of her foster parents, any of the other kids in her foster homes, any of the teachers at any of the schools she'd attended for a month at a time- not a one of them had seen Nora shed a single tear.

The hallway here was brightly lit and full of people. Grissom, the case worker, and Judy were in close proximity. Catherine, Nick, Greg, and Ray were a few yards away, having snuck out of the confines of the break room to more closely witness this moment in their friends' lives. Brass and a uniform had just walked through the door, but Nora saw none of them.

She shrugged off her backpack and wrapped her arms around Sara, her head resting against her chest as the tears ran down her face and as the sobs wracked her body. Nora hadn't expected to feel this way. She hadn't expected to ever squeak out, "I miss my mom" through her tears. She had been determined to hate both of her parents for what they had done to her and for how they had left her so alone in the world. She adamantly declared to herself that she was better off without them. So, why then, was she bawling in Sara's arms, repeating, "I miss her so much" over and over again?

Sara hadn't been able to stop the tears either. She was startled by the hug; she had expected a handshake at best, but she was pleased. When Nora cried that she missed her mom, the rest of the people in the room disappeared from her consciousness, and Sara had closed her eyes, rested her chin on Nora's head so that Nora was nestled more closely into her chest, and whispered over and over again through her own freely flowing tears, "It's okay to miss her" and "I know you do" and "She loved you, Nora, she really did." Sara was firmly holding Nora to her with her left hand and running the fingers of her right hand through Nora's long, straight hair.

The moment was as beautiful as it was heart-breaking.

Eventually, the tears stopped. Nora pulled away from Sara, who, in turn, gently wiped the last few tear tracks off Nora's cheeks. Both smiled shyly.

The team had converged where Grissom was standing as Nora and Sara shared their long moment of mourning and rejoicing in each other's comfort. Catherine had slung an arm around Grissom's shoulder, and as they all watched Nora and Sara smile, Catherine turned to him and said, "You're a lucky man, Gil. You know that?"

Grissom's reply was a genuine, "Yes. I do."

Grissom pulled free of Catherine's arm, took a step toward his wife and foster daughter, turned back and said, "But what do I do now?" The look on his face was priceless to Catherine; the mix of awkwardness and concern was endearing.

Before Catherine could even answer, Greg nudged him toward his little family, as Sara and Nora were both looking at him.

The awkwardness was palpable as Sara cleared her throat and said, "Nora, this is Gil. He's my husband. Do you remember seeing him here when we talked last time?"

It amazed Nora how fast-riding her emotional roller coaster had been since her parents had died. She had been thrilled to see Sara, then she'd dissolved into a sniveling mess, as wretched as could be, and now it felt as though an iron fist had tightened around her insides. She swallowed the bile rising into her throat, determined not to show the unreasonable fear she felt. "Yeah." _Oh my gosh, that couldn't have been a more pathetic voice. Try again. _She cleared her throat and continued in a more confident voice, "Yeah, I remember. Hi. It's nice to meet you. Well, I mean, formally. I never got to talk to you last time." _Got to! Ha! I wouldn't even make eye contact with him last time I was here! _"I, um, well, thanks for being willing to take me in. I appreciate it."

And appreciate it she did, even though she hadn't even seen their house. The minute she had seen Sara, Nora had felt hopeful for the first time in a very long time. It seemed such a shame that Sara had to be connected to this Gil guy, but Nora resolved to try to do better with this foster father than the rest; she'd try to not be afraid of him, to not shut him out. _Maybe he won't be so bad. Sara loves him; he's got to be a good guy. She wouldn't trust just anyone, not with her past, and there's no way she'd make me live with a bad man; she knows what this is like. I'm safe now. I can do this. I can deal with him. _

Nora made the boldest move she'd made since becoming a ward of the state. She held out her hand, trembling though it was, to Grissom. He closed his eyes and breathed a quick sigh of relief. As he opened his eyes and gently grasped Nora's smooth clammy hand in his own larger, weathered one, a single tear made its way down his cheek. He impatiently wiped it away with his left hand as he shook his new daughter's hand, resisted the surprising urge to fold her into a tight hug, and said, "Nora, it's great to meet you. Let's go home."

The panic alarm sounded in Nora's head at the thought of "going home." Her home was no longer her home. Who knew what this "home" would be like. She dropped Grissom's hand and subconsciously rubbed her palm on her jean shorts, as though she was washing Grissom's touch off her skin. Slowly, she said, "Yeah, okay, I'd like that."

Her hands were visibly shaking as she picked her backpack up off the floor where she had hastily dropped it minutes ago. Grissom turned to Sara with a questioning look; Sara heard his unasked question perfectly: should he carry her backpack for her? She shook her head and pointed at Nora's two suitcases. As Grissom grabbed the handles on Nora's suitcases and headed to the door, Sara put her arm around Nora and whispered, "It's okay to be scared, Nora, but I PROMISE you, Gil is a good man. He will NEVER hurt you." Nora looked astonished that Sara had seemed to read her thoughts, but before she had time to respond, Sara continued, "Oh, and Nora, Gil's patient. He'll give you all the time you need. Come on, I think you'll like your new room."

Nora smiled through the fresh tears brightening her eyes.


	9. Bringing Nora Home: June 2011

Notes: First of all, I must apologize for my horrible editing in the previous chapters! I was re-reading them in preparation for writing this chapter and found multiple issues with my vocabulary and even with my characters (I am mortified to admit that I wrote Warrick into the last chapter even though he's dead during the timeframe of this story!), and for that, I am very sorry! I've edited and replaced all but one chapter to fix the glaring mistakes I made. Secondly, I feel honored to have received such wonderful praise in response to the last chapter (especially since I made such a silly mistake writing Warrick into it… I just miss him, I suppose!). I am so thankful that you like Nora's character thus far. As always, please continue letting me know how I'm doing and helping me shape this story with your reviews; I genuinely appreciate them. This chapter will be focused on Nora's introduction to her new home; Grissom and even Sara really take a back seat in this chapter, but there will be plenty of them in chapters to come- enjoy!

CSICSICSICSICSI

After a nearly silent car ride, Grissom, Sara, and Nora arrived home together for the first time.

In an attempt to diffuse the tension that had settled on them all during the car ride, Grissom said to Nora as she was shrugging her backpack onto her shoulders, "I hope you like dogs, Nora." Startled, Nora moved her eyes from the ground to Sara's face, clearly questioning Grissom's statement with her expression. Grissom reminded himself that he knew Nora would be afraid of him, and that he needed to not take it personally when she seemed willing to only look at Sara.

Sara said, "His name's Hank. He's a boxer. He's really protective and lovable, but you may have to shove him off you when we go in… he's a bit of a jumper." Sara noticed that Grissom had both of the suitcases out of the trunk, so she added, "You ready to go in, Nora?"

"Sure. I mean, we can't stand out here forever, right?" Nora smiled weakly at Sara; the urge to vomit was too intense to allow for a proper smile.

The new family headed up the short stretch of walkway to the front door. Nora took in the well-kept, tiny lawn and the weed-free, small flowerbeds alive with lantanas, poppies, lavender, thyme, and rosemary, as she slowly and deliberately forced herself to take each step toward the door. As Grissom opened the door, Hank barreled out to greet his masters, covering them with sloppy kisses before recognizing the presence of someone new. Hank's stub of a tail wagged furiously as he jumped up onto Nora. Sara and Grissom both yelled, "Hank, no, get down!" but they immediately stopped talking as they heard Nora laugh. Stunned, neither Sara nor Grissom wanted to interrupt this magical moment, and each listened, smiling and hardly breathing, as Nora laughed at Hank's affectionate greeting and spoke cheerfully to him; "Hi Hank. You're a good boy. Good boy. I'm glad to meet you, too, big guy."

Suddenly, Nora seemed to recollect the fact that Sara and Grissom were both standing right there; she stopped petting Hank and looked up at Sara, embarrassment written all over her face. Sara smiled and said, "I'm jealous; he likes you already. You should have seen him when I first came around. He was Gil's dog before we even started dating, and the first time I went to Gil's place, Hank tried to stand between me and Gil the entire time." Nora smiled at her story, the blush in her cheeks subsided a bit, and the three made their way inside.

"Well, Nora, this is it. Welcome home." Grissom easily felt more nervous now than he had the first time Sara had come over. When Sara had first come, she'd already known about his insect obsession, she knew his likes and dislikes, and she had basically expected exactly what she'd found at his old townhouse. Nora, however, knew nothing about her new foster parents aside from the facts that Sara was a criminalist and had a childhood similar to her own. Figuring Nora would not truly understand or need to be exposed to every aspect of Sara's job, she and Grissom had decided to remove certain titles, such as Corpses, Cadavers, and Other Grave Matters and Bloodstain Pattern Analysis from their bookshelves, but the pet tarantula, the terrariums of hissing cockroaches and leaf insects, and the multitudes of preserved, framed insects, mostly butterflies, remained.

Nora stood in the entryway, one hand fidgeting with a backpack strap again. Awkward didn't even begin to describe the way she felt. She always felt this way the first time she came to a new foster home. A constant stream of questions ran through her head as she stood, the same questions she'd struggled with at all of her other foster homes: "Should I walk around or wait for a tour?" "Can I just go hide in whatever room is "mine" or do I need to stay with these people?" "Is there a lock on my bedroom door?" "Am I going to have to listen to a sermon about house rules?" "Is there any good food here?" "If there is good food, am I allowed to eat it?" "Where's the nearest phone to call 911 on?" "Is there a gun here?" And so on and so on.

As these thoughts that no twelve year old girl should have to think in her own home ran through Nora's head, she half-consciously took in her surroundings. From her vantage point by the front door, Nora could see the layout of the family room, which she was nearly standing in, with its comfortable-looking worn leather furniture, large flat screen TV mounted above a fireplace, and its obviously meticulously organized collections of books on bookshelves that lined an entire wall. She was able to see part of the kitchen, with its shiny clean stainless steel appliances and the framed butterflies adorning the cornices above the dark cherry cabinets. _Is that an aquarium in there? Are those bugs? That's weird._

Grissom had gone to put Nora's suitcases in her bedroom. Sara's voice broke the kind of trance Nora seemed to be in, standing there by the door. Sara's heart ached as she remembered being the girl standing on the doorstep, waiting to feel like she belonged. "Hey Nora?" Nora looked surprised to find Sara standing nearby. "Come on. I'll show you your room."

Sara led the way down the hall to Nora's bedroom. When they reached the doorway, Sara said, "Here's the deal. I know you feel really awkward right now, and frankly, so do Gil and I. I never did like having to sit around with my new foster families listening to long speeches about rules, especially since all I ever wanted to do was hide in my room. So, I guess I'll just leave you on your own here. I uh, I left you a note on your bed, and I'd really like for you to read it. Just so you know, whenever you're ready to come out, we'd love to see you. Oh, and there's a lock on this door, and we won't be offended if you use it. You okay?"

"Mmm hmm." Nora nodded as she murmured an affirmative answer.

"You need anything now?"

"No." There was a touch of defiance in Nora's voice, and she was immediately sorry she spoke harshly; it had become habit since her parents had died, but she really didn't want to offend Sara.

"All right." Sara heard the anger in Nora's voice, but let it go. She added, "If you need anything, let me know. And Nora, just so you know, I'm glad you're here."

"Thanks." Nora made to close the door to her new room, but just before it clicked shut, Nora said quietly, "I'm glad I'm here, too."

The room Nora found herself standing in was just perfect: sunny, cheerful, clean, and not childish. It didn't take long for her to notice the new, pink i-pod touch lying on the desk or the selection of brand new books on the shelves above the desk. She was touched; none of her previous foster parents had bought anything for her before she came into their homes. She picked up the i-pod in its packaging and sat on her new bed, planning to open her gift, but had sat on something that was obviously not a pillow. She jumped back up and found that she had sat on the letter Sara had mentioned and on a beautiful journal that had been sitting under the letter. Dropping the i-pod back on the desk, Nora unfolded the letter and read.

_Dear Nora,_

_We are so glad you're here. Thank you for allowing us to bring you to this house; it is our hope that one day, you will call this room your own and will call this townhouse home. _

_I am sure you remember that I was a foster child, too. I remember what it felt like to be taken to a new house. I remember all too well the fear, the nausea, and the anger. I remember wanting to hide, to find a little cave in which I could live as a hermit for the rest of my life. I remember wanting so desperately to have someone to talk to, but not having anyone around who had earned my trust. I also remember that the worst part of moving to a new foster home was feeling like a stranger in the place I was supposed to call "home." I hated, I despised feeling like I had to ask for a drink or a snack, put my shampoo in my room after showering because I felt like I was infringing on the family I was living with if I left any of my personal things in common areas, and hide in my room as often as possible so as not to invade the foster family's living spaces any more than I had to. I am sure you feel the same, or at the very least, similarly. _

_Nora, Gil and I hope to make those fears go away. We want you to feel safe and happy here. We want you to be sure to know that you are welcome to be as much a part of our family as you're ready to be. When you're ready to leave your shampoo in the bathroom (by the way, you get your own bathroom… it's the door right across the hall), do it. When you're hungry, search the kitchen; you may always eat or drink anything we have, and please, please, ask for anything you want to eat or drink that we don't have… I will gladly add your favorites to my grocery list. When you're ready to sit in the family room to watch TV with us, do so, and steal the remote so you can watch the shows you like._

_It's important to us that you know that both of us are always willing to talk with you. If you ever need to talk about what happened to your family, even if it's the middle of the night or even if it's the middle of the day when I'm asleep, please come to me. I know what it's like to NEED to talk about it, and I also know what it's like to refuse to talk and bottle up all the grief instead (please try to not do that to yourself). And if you're ever not comfortable talking to either one of us about something, but really need to tell us, I've put paper and pens in the top drawer of your desk, so feel free to leave one of us a note._

_We also want you to know that we will always respect your privacy. We will never come into your room without an invitation from you. Of course, you should know that I am a major obsessive compulsive cleaner, so please try to keep your room clean and tidy for me, or at the very least, keep the door shut (smile). _

_Sara and Gil_

Nora wiped the tears from her pale, freckled cheeks as she finished reading the letter she instinctively knew would be a treasure she'd keep for the rest of her life. Suddenly feeling bone-tired, regardless of the fact that the sun will still shining brightly outside, Nora pulled back the covers on her new bed, kicked her shoes off, and feeling rather childish, carefully placed the letter under her pillow before curling up and falling into the first peaceful sleep she'd experienced in a long, long time.


	10. What's an Entomologist?: June 2011

Notes: I'd love to hug all of you lovely readers; I continue to be amazed at your kind comments and your support of this story. I am certainly planning on continuing it for a long time; it's wonderfully challenging and fun to write. However, I feel I should let you all know that I will be going back to work full-time next month after working only part-time for the last two years and I will most likely begin to earn my Master's degree at the same time. Therefore, a bit more time may pass between updates, especially in the first few months of learning to adjust to full-time work, part-time school, and full-time motherhood. I shall certainly do my best to find the time to keep writing, (I must admit that I'm a bit addicted!). Anyway, this chapter finishes out Nora's first day home with Sara and Grissom. Enjoy!

CSICSICSICSICSI

It was 6:00. Grissom had just pulled a scrumptious-smelling veggie lasagna out of the oven. Nora had been home for six hours and she had been in her room for the last five hours and fifty minutes, and neither Gil nor Sara had heard any noise at all coming from Nora's room- no muffled crying, no loud thuds from heavy objects making contact with the walls, no music, no nothing. They were starting to worry. The investigators in them concluded she was sleeping, but without being able to procure evidence to support their theory since they'd promised Nora privacy, they just couldn't be sure.

Not being sure Nora was asleep, they were hesitant to talk about her lest she somehow overheard. They hadn't been naïve enough to think they'd bring Nora home and continue life as they had previously known it, but somehow, they just hadn't realized just how hard it would be to have a simple conversation.

When the over timer announced the readiness of the lasagna, Grissom hadn't immediately silenced it. Under the cover of its relentless beeping, he said, "Do you think she's okay? Why don't you go knock on her door and invite her to dinner? I don't think she'll come out if I go to her door."

Sara walked over to turn the timer off; she was less concerned about Nora overhearing this conversation. After all, they were simply expressing concern for her well-being, and really, maybe it would be good for Nora to overhear. Plus, there was the fact that a bit of space and a few decently thick walls separated them from Nora, and unless her hearing was superhuman, she probably wasn't going to hear a quiet conversation anyway.

"I guess I should. I feel kind of stupid asking her to come to dinner, but I guess I know she won't if she isn't asked. I sure as hell would have just hid in my room. It was always so much easier to pretend I didn't exist than to pretend like I actually fit in with my foster families." Sara covered her face with her hands momentarily as she allowed unsettling memories of her first days in some of her foster homes to sweep through her mind. After rubbing her fingers firmly along her temples, Sara threw her hands out and abruptly turned to face her husband, declaring loudly as she pointed a finger at him, "We're GOOD, Gil. We're good people. We are."

Knowing that Sara was experiencing negative flash-backs into her foster child past, and therefore not needing to ask why Sara was nearly _accusing_ him of being good, Grissom simply took Sara's pointing hand in both of his own and quietly said, "Sara. Listen to me. We are NOT like your foster parents. We ARE good people. Nora KNOWS that. She trusts you."

"Right." Sara's shoulders relaxed as she nodded with her eyes closed. "Right. Sorry. I just, God, Gil, I just HATED the first day."

"Grissom wrapped Sara in a tight hug, and as he rested his chin in her hair, he said, "I know you did, honey, and I'm sure Nora is struggling right now. I'm sure she needs you." After holding Sara close for several long, silent minutes, he asked, "So are you going to ask Nora to come out for dinner? You know, we're not asking her to let us adopt her tonight; you're simply asking her to eat. If you don't make it a big deal, maybe Nora won't feel so awkward about it."

Sara pulled away from Grissom and smiled shyly at him. "Sorry. Got a bit carried away."

"Never be sorry for having feelings, Sara. It's human nature. And besides, I love it when you get all compassionate on me." Grissom smiled cheekily at Sara and grabbed the cookie sheet of frozen garlic bread off the island. He was sticking in the oven as Sara made her way down the hall.

Sara stood outside the door to Nora's bedroom, working up the courage to knock and wondering why on earth she had it in her to chase after bad guys wielding guns but didn't have it in her to knock on a door in her own home. Eventually, she lifted a fist and knocked gently on the door, saying as she did so, "Nora? Are you awake?"

She heard a muffled reply. "Hmm?"

"Are you hungry? Gil just finished making dinner and we were hoping you'd like to eat with us." Sara stood, shoulders slumping further with every passing second in which she did not hear a reply. Nora had still been lying in bed, in the half-asleep, half-awake stage of consciousness achieved while trying to wake up from a deep sleep. She had heard Sara, but really couldn't bring herself to respond. After a long, slow stretch, Nora mustered up the energy to slide off the bed. She rubbed her eyes sleepily before opening the door and coming face to face with an obviously anxious Sara.

"Sorry." Sara stepped back. "I didn't mean to be in your face like that." She smiled tentatively and continued, "I just, well, Gil and I were just hoping you were hungry. Do you like lasagna?"

Nora nodded, suddenly feeling much too shy to respond. Those first couple meals with a new family were always torturous, but she knew as well as Sara did that the only way to get to a point where the "family" meals weren't torture was to just get the first few meals over with.

Grissom smiled at Nora as she entered the kitchen with Sara, but Nora didn't notice. She just couldn't bring herself to look at Grissom's face. _Sara trusts him. He's a good man._ Nora played this mantra over and over in her mind and truly wanted to believe it. She just needed time, or at least, that's what she hoped.

While Nora stared at her plate and occupied her time trying to make it look like she ate a reasonable amount (the lasagna was plenty tasty, but it was mightily difficult to eat when her stomach was constantly threatening to toss out its contents), Grissom and Sara attempted to maintain a stream of light conversation and banter. For the most part, they failed miserably; as it turned out, there seemed to be no workable conversation topics to be found- Sara could hardly talk about her latest case at work in front of Nora, Grissom hadn't yet started his new job, so that topic was a bust, and even if Nora had wanted to talk, asking her what school she went to would have been stupid because it was summer break and Nora had no current school, and the timing didn't seem right to start asking Nora what local school she wanted to attend come mid-August.

Grissom was the only one with an empty plate half an hour after the three sat down to dinner, but he recognized the fact that the ladies were just not going to eat. He stood up and picked up his plate. Sara followed suit. Grissom reached over to Nora's place at the table to take her plate, but Nora quickly stood, holding her own plate. She followed Sara and Grissom into the kitchen, discreetly knocked her lasagna into the garbage can, and turned toward the sink to rinse her plate. Sara had already turned on the water, and as she gently took Nora's plate from her, Nora noticed the terrarium sitting next to the sink that she had momentarily glimpsed earlier when she had first stepped foot into this new place. From the entryway, she had noticed that the tank wasn't an aquarium because it wasn't full of water, but she hadn't noticed earlier that the tank was full of something rather unattractive.

"Roaches?" _Oh my God, did I just say that out loud?" _Hearing Grissom and Sara both chuckle, Nora realized she had indeed just disgustedly blurted out that there were roaches sitting in front of her, like they were pets. Pet ROACHES. Nora's cheeks burned scarlet, and she was tempted to flee to her room, but hearing Grissom say, "Not just any roaches, Nora. These fellows are Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches" kept her rooted to her spot. _Cockroaches? That sounds even nastier._

Nora stared, a grimace on her face, into the terrarium. Grissom joined her at the tank, and Nora was so busy freaking out about the fact that she was now living in a house with pet vermin to worry about Grissom's proximity. He pointed to a roach in the far corner of the tank and commented, "Do you see how this specimen has thicker, fuzzier antennae than this one over here?" He moved his finger to point to a roach sitting on what appeared to be a slimy chunk of banana.

Nora squinted. If she really tried to, she thought she could, in fact, see a difference in the antennae, but she couldn't bring herself to care about fuzzy antennae, so her reply of "Yea?" was both questioning and a little saucy.

"Well, the cockroaches with the fuzzier antennae are the males. This gentleman here," Grissom happily commented as he pointed to a rather large roach on a twig, "is my oldest and fastest specimen. He's won quite a few races in his day."

At that declaration, Nora couldn't help but look quizzically at Sara as if to say, "Does he really RACE roaches?" Sara laughed out loud, completely understanding Nora's expression. She said, "I actually did marry a guy who goes to bug racing conventions for fun. And don't even bother asking- no, it is so NOT normal, but hey, Gil's an entomologist. He's just wired to like our six-legged friends."

"What's an entomologist?" Again, Nora directed her words and her glance at Sara, but Sara looked over Nora to her husband to encourage him to answer.

Grissom took the hint and replied, "An entomologist is a scientist who studies insects."

"Oh. Okay." Clearly at a loss as to why anyone would want, or better yet, _need_ to be an entomologist, Nora figured the best way out of this strange conversation would be to escape to her room, so she added, "Uh, I'm just going to go back to, um, the room. Good night."

Sara and Gil both noticed Nora's use of "the" instead of "my," but didn't correct Nora. _Eventually_, they both told themselves… someday, Nora would say "my." Sara leaned her head against Grissom's shoulder as she said, without thinking, "Good night, sleep tight, and don't let the bed bugs bite!" Her brother, Ben, used to say that to her every night when they were kids, and Sara said it to Hank almost every night before she left for work.

Sara was so occupied with her embarrassment at having just said goodnight to Nora in the same way she said goodnight to her dog that she almost missed hearing Grissom call out, "Don't worry, I don't keep those as pets!"

Sara sure didn't miss hearing Nora's reluctant giggle as she disappeared through her bedroom door. At that particular moment, all three were thinking along the same lines. The quote that popped into Grissom's mind summed up the general feeling quite well: _All good things arrive unto them that wait._


	11. Grocery Shopping: July 2011

Notes: As usual, thank you to every last one of you who took the time to read the last chapter! I continue to be overwhelmed with all of your wonderful reviews; keep them coming! I do hope you enjoy this chapter. It, too, took forever to write; I am struggling because I don't wish to sound like a second grader writing, "They got up. They ate breakfast. They went to the store. They watched TV." and so on. I'm sure we all know what families do in their daily lives and routines, but I really want to portray just how emotionally taxing something as simple as sharing a meal or running a load of laundry is right now for Gil, Sara, and Nora because of the circumstances surrounding their relationship. Please let me know how I'm doing. Just an FYI: Albertsons is a grocery store chain in Las Vegas.

CSICSICSICSICSI

Sara had asked for two weeks of personal leave for the first time in her career so that she could be home with Nora as she adjusted to living with Grissom and herself. Catherine had been more than willing to give her the time off, and even Ecklie had relented fairly quickly. Also, Grissom's new position with UNLV wasn't scheduled to begin until August, so thus far, neither Grissom, Sara, or Nora had left the townhouse since they'd walked through its doors together two days ago.

After a second awkward, yet not unpleasant dinner with Nora, after which Nora had escaped to the sanctuary of her bedroom again, Grissom and Sara were relaxing on the couch. Grissom filled in the answer to 53 across, and then laid his puzzle aside to give attention to his wife. He knew Sara needed assurance, so he said, "Everything's going to work out. I can just tell. Nora's going to be okay here."

"You can just tell, huh? If anyone at the lab had ever said that to you, you would have demanded the evidence." Sara smirked. She knew she was right.

"Fair enough, but I have evidence."

"Do you, Gil? And what might your evidence be?"

"For starters, four of Nora's other sets of foster parents said Nora refused to speak to them, but Nora has responded to us every time she's been expected to."

Sara rolled her eyes again and commented, "Yeah, she has, but she's just being polite. It's not like she's started any conversations, and she clearly answers with the shortest answers possible."

Grissom responded, "Yes, but at least she's talking. She didn't do that at four of her other five foster homes." He spoke louder as Sara's body language told him she was about to interrupt again. "And she even makes eye contact with you." He was momentarily surprised at the pang of, what was it, jealousy? that flitted through his mind, and definitely defined the feeling as jealousy when he heard Sara's response.

"She doesn't make eye contact with you." Sara said the words in a conciliatory fashion. She had observed in the past two days how much Grissom wanted to bond with Nora and how out of place he seemed to feel in his own home now. Even as she said the words, she could see Grissom's eyes fill with sadness in reaction.

"I know she doesn't, but Sara, we knew it'd take Nora a lot longer to be comfortable around me than around you. It's only been two days. Let's just look at another piece of evidence, shall we? Nora has sat in the family room with us three times, completely voluntarily."

Sara sighed. "I know she has, but you know as well as I do that she curled up into a tiny ball on the armchair each time to try to minimize her presence in the room. You know she's hated every second in here."

"But still, Sara, she sat here. Even if it was only for a few minutes, and even if she did try to make herself invisible, the fact remains that Nora _chose_ to be near us. She _chose_ to leave her bedroom. Oh, and I have one more piece of evidence to illustrate that Nora will adjust to being here. She sits with us for meals, which we know she refused to do at her last home."

Sara replied exasperatedly, "Yeah, but she doesn't eat. She just scoots her food around on her plate."

Grissom was frustrated that Sara continued to dismiss his arguments, but he firmly believed that she agreed with him and just didn't want to say so out loud for fear of somehow ruining the little progress they'd made with Nora. He closed his oral evidence report with, "I do know I'm right, Sara. The evidence never lies."

"Mmm hmm. I hope so." Lost in thoughts about the relevancy of Grissom's "evidence," Sara closed her eyes and leaned back against her husband. Grissom finally figured out the answer to 31 down that had been eluding him all day just a moment before Sara asked, with her eyes still closed, "Do you think she likes our food?"

Grissom was incredulous. Of all the things to worry about, Sara was concerned about the appeal of the food in their house. Never mind the nightmares Nora was probably having, never mind the fact that Nora still wouldn't make eye contact with _him_… _let's worry about the brand of chips we have_. It was his turn to sigh. "Sara, Nora hardly eats anything. I don't know that she particularly cares about the food."

"But what if she's not eating because she hates the food and is too nice to say anything?"

After arguing about the veracity of Sara's assumption for a few minutes, an exasperated Grissom finally said, "Sara, just take her to Albertsons already, will you?"

CSICSICSICSICSI

The following morning found the three gathered together in the kitchen. Sara had agreed that taking Nora to Albertsons was a good idea. Nora had consented to going, especially since Grissom would be staying home. Gil had said that was staying home because he hated shopping, but Nora suspected he knew she wanted time alone with Sara, and her respect for Grissom grew a bit more. She even ventured a quick glance in his direction, not actually making eye contact, but coming close, as she and Sara made their way to the door. As Grissom and Sara were heard saying, "Bye," "We'll be home soon," and "Love you," Nora's, "Bye, Gil" was almost audible, and Nora was simultaneously proud of herself for talking to him and disappointed with herself for making sure he couldn't actually hear her.

CSICSICSICSICSI

Sara and Nora reached the Prius. Sara was nervous. Was she going to have to lay down the first family rule or was she going to get to avoid doing so? As Nora placed her hand on the passenger side front door, Sara cursed inwardly. _Dammit. Family rule number one. Ready or not, Sara, it's time to be the mom. _"Um, Nora, can you sit in the back seat?"

Taken aback, Nora took her hand off the door handle and shot a curious glance at Sara. Sara said, by way of explanation, "Sorry, it's just that the risk of death for you if we were to get in a wreck is reduced by at least a third if you're in the back seat. I just want to keep you safe. You okay with that?" _Just breathe, Sara. She can hate you for this, but you're doing the right thing._

Sara had been expecting a Lindsey Willows-like declaration of "NO FAIR!," so was rather shocked to hear a nonchalant, "It's no big deal. Really."

Sara then felt obligated as a responsible adult to ask, "Do you know how much you weigh?"

Still more confused, Nora replied, "Uh, I think I'm like 74 pounds. Why?"

"Oh, well, it's just that in Nevada, you have to be in a child restraint until you weigh 60 pounds. I figured you were heavier than that just because if you were only 60 pounds, you'd be below the growth curve altogether, and you don't seem that small to me. I just figured I'd better ask, though, just to make sure." _Oh my God, I sound like a bumbling idiot. This poor kid is going to think I'm a moron._

Nora didn't say anything, but quietly climbed into the back seat of the car. The ride to Albertsons was silent but for the noise of the music playing softly on the radio; Sara was wrapped up in her thoughts on how well family rule number one was taken and Nora was wrapped up in her thoughts about Sara's words. As Sara parked the car at the grocery store, Nora finally asked, "Did you really research that? You know, the car safety?"

Sara glanced at Nora in the rearview mirror and smiled. "Guilty. I've been known to research just about everything. Gil does, too. Our friends at the crime lab like to complain about that annoying trait of ours. But hey, it's worth taking a little teasing from the team to know I'm doing my best to keep you safe. You know what my line of work is; I guess I'm overcautious after all these years at the lab."

Nora's reply was a simple, "Huh." She couldn't possibly say to Sara that she was astounded to know that someone wanted to keep her safe and actually put time into researching how to do so; her own parents had never seemed to care. Sometimes Nora hated being twelve, and right now was one of those moments; she wanted to be five or six so she could throw her arms around Sara, to show affection, to express the immense gratitude she felt right now, and to feel safe and loved in her arms. _Of course, if I was five, I wouldn't have understood how much effort Sara's putting into taking care of me._

CSICSICSICSICSI

Inside Albertsons, Sara and Nora made quick work of filling their cart. Turns out, Nora had pretty much existed on frozen convenience foods, but even though Sara offered to buy a selection of such items, Nora insisted that if she had to eat one more individual-sized frozen pizza in her life, she'd scream. Seeing Sara's widened eyes and interpreting them correctly, Nora added, "But it's okay if you and Gil eat frozen pizza. I'll eat it, too. I just hated eating a stupid mini pizza by myself every night because it's all my mom would make. She hated being in the kitchen for even a second longer than she needed to be, and so did I, because if my dad went in there to get a beer and either of us were in there, well…" Nora left her comment unfinished, but Sara remembered all too well; it had been the family room, specifically because of the TV, that Sara had feared in her childhood. She didn't need Nora to explain- picturing her own father cussing loudly and throwing things just because a cartoon was playing on the TV instead of WWF wrestling made it fairly easy for her to imagine how Nora's father reacted to finding someone near his precious supply of beer. She put an arm around Nora's shoulders and squeezed as she guided the cart past the frozen pizzas with her other hand.

"Well, how about we just avoid pizza for a while? We don't eat it often anyway, and I prefer Gil's homemade whole wheat crust to the frozen junk anyway." Nora nodded. Minutes later, as Sara stopped the cart in front of the store's selection of cookies, Nora asked, "Do you eat junk food?" She hadn't seen much in the way of junk food at Sara's and Gil's house.

Sara laughed. "Well, I usually don't buy junk food here because if I have it at home, I'll eat it, you know? Besides, Gil and I love this little bakery down the street, and we walk there a couple times a week for coffee and cookies. We'll have to get you addicted to their baked goods, too- they really are just spectacular." Seeing Nora's shy smile, Sara knew Nora was both thrilled at the idea of being included and anxious about how an outing with Sara and Gil would go. Sara focused her attention back on the shelves of cookies. "But, anyway, I figured you might want some of this stuff. What do you like?"

"I really don't need anything." After Sara insisted that she wanted Nora to have the foods she liked, Nora chose Nutter Butters, which she pulled off the shelf saying, "These are really good. The old lady who lived across the street from me used to give me these. I sometimes pretended my mom asked me to come borrow sugar or something just so I could go over there. She'd always ask me to help her with stuff. I think that's because she knew I didn't want to go home."

Again feeling heartbroken, but at the same time marveling at how Nora was letting her into her past, Sara was momentarily unable to respond. When they reached the next aisle, she said, "Someday, Nora, when you're ready to be that close to your old house, I'd love for you to introduce me to your old friend. What's her name?"

"Mrs. Hoffmann."

"Well, I'd love to meet Mrs. Hoffmann someday." Sara hesitatingly pushed the cart into the refrigerated meats section, and said, "So, I don't eat meat. Gil and I once sat around watching a dead pig being eaten by insects, and ever since then, I just haven't been able to stomach meat at all. Gil eats meat, though, but I refuse to buy it unless it's organic, so I hope you're okay with that."

"Isn't organic stuff so much more expensive?"

Sara assured Nora that the expense was well worth it, and learned that Nora wasn't picky about her meats, so she chose ground turkey and ground sirloin, knowing that Grissom would appreciate both. After dropping a few more items in the cart on their way to the registers, Sara and Nora finished their shopping and headed home. During the car ride home, Sara sang along with the radio, and could have sworn she heard Nora chime in on a refrain or two.


	12. Post it: July 2011

Notes: This chapter picks up when Sara and Nora return home from their grocery shopping trip. Enjoy!

CSICSICSICSICSI

Grissom met Sara and Nora at the door when they arrived home and helped bring the groceries in. As they began to unpack the bags, Nora realized she didn't know where many of the items belonged, so she stepped back and leaned against a countertop, intent on observing so she could help next time. As she leaned back and tried to blend into the countertop as much as possible so as to be out of the way, her elbow bumped against the terrarium of cockroaches. "Oops." She figured banging the glass probably irritated the little critters.

Grissom heard Nora's "oops," glanced her way and said as he closed a cabinet door, "Admiring my little beauties, huh?"

Nora pulled a disgusted face, staring right at Grissom with her nose crinkled and her lip curled up in a snarl, too intent on being grossed out to realize that she just made eye contact with him for the first time, and declared, "Admiring? More like hoping I don't die from a disease I catch from one of these things."

"A disease?" Grissom was promising his roaches in his head that he'd fly them to Madagascar and set them free in their natural homeland as a thank you for causing Nora to finally look him in the eye as he answered, carefully keeping his distance from her, even though he had been seized with an urge to pull her into a bear hug. "I can assure you that these particular specimens are disease-free. They were born in captivity and sadly for them, I've set up strict sanitation rules and have expressly forbidden them from choosing fecal matter for dinner. They all go through a bit of a rebellious phase when they pupate, but try as they might, not a one of them has managed escape to find one of Hank's bombs in the backyard."

Sara had been standing, frozen in place with a box of cereal suspended in the air in her hand, mesmerized by the interaction she was witnessing. Grissom had been waiting, patiently and yet desperately, for Nora to make eye contact with him, to not be terrified to see his face, and it was happening. She marveled at how perfect it was for Gil and Nora to bond over bugs, and laughed out loud as she watched Nora smile after Grissom described his "rebellious teenage bugs."

Nora was clearly trying hard to maintain her disgusted expression, but was failing. _Is this guy for real? Rebellious roaches? Fecal matter? Pupate? What the heck is pupate? _A reluctant, small smile suddenly adorned Nora's youthful, unblemished face when Sara laughed. Her eyes, one half-hidden by a tendril of auburn hair, met Grissom's again, very purposefully. The beautiful hazel eyes Grissom was staring at were clearly expressing fear and concern, desire and hope.

"So, can these 'particular specimens' also talk or read?" Nora drew air quotes as she repeated Grissom's words to him. She continued, "Cuz I really want to know how exactly you establish and enforce rules with a bunch of nasty little bugs." Her tone was light and even happy as she teased Grissom. Sara dropped the box of cereal on a countertop, ignored the fact that the frozen vegetables were surely thawing, and simply stared at the scene unfolding in front of her. _She's actually teasing him! _Sara could not suppress a huge grin as she enjoyed the interaction between Grissom and Nora.

Grissom clasped his hands over his heart in mock indignation. "Nasty little bugs? You're killing me here! You might not like cockroaches, but you have to like some insects. Butterflies?" Grissom gestured to the preserved specimens on the soffits above the cabinets as he queried.

"Sure. Butterflies are pretty. Ladybugs and fireflies are fine, too. Even dragonflies are okay. But roaches. Eww. Just eww." Nore crinkled her nose up again as she glanced back at the offending insects in the terrarium. She did not look back at Grissom, and he accepted the end of their conversation. He and Sara went back to unpacking the groceries. Nora put the milk in the fridge because she did, of course, know that it had to go on the one and only shelf it fit on in the fridge, and then she slipped off to the privacy of her bedroom.

After hearing the faint click of Nora's bedroom door shutting, Sara grinned at Grissom as she practically skipped over to him to give him a hug. She was elated. She squealed, "She looked at you! On purpose and everything!"

Grissom was glad to return the hug and contentedly sighed and buried his face in Sara's hair. Sara had a hard time hearing his muffled, "Oh, Sara, you have no idea how glad I am right now," but that didn't matter. She knew how happy he was.

CSICSICSICSICSI

Later that evening, long after lunch and dinner had been made and enjoyed, long after Nora had headed back to her room for the night, and shortly after the culmination of the 11:00 news, Grissom padded softly into the kitchen to put his and Sara's half-full glasses of water into the sink before they went to bed. He glanced over at his cockroaches, silently thanking them yet again for making Nora forget how scared of him she was, and he noticed something on the wall of the terrarium that certainly wasn't there before. Curious, he lifted the lid and found a yellow Post-it stuck on the wall, very near the top. He peeled it off the glass. In printing that wasn't Sara's, he read, "Rules: 1. No eating poop. 2. Wash all six of your creepy legs before dinner. 3. No escaping."

Clearly, Nora had been terrified of sticking her little Post-it into the tank due to its position, but Grissom appreciated the humor and the sentiment of it. In fact, he realized he appreciated the gesture more than he would have anticipated when he felt the slightest bit of stinging moisture in his eyes.

Minutes later, Sara realized Grissom hadn't come to their bedroom yet. Wondering how putting dishes in the sink could take so long, she wandered down to the kitchen. She found her husband standing stock still in front of his roaches, and holding a very small piece of paper. When Sara caught his attention and cocked her head sideways with her brows furrowed, asking a silent question, Grissom handed her the Post-it in response.

"So, Dr. Grissom, is this another piece of evidence in the argument that Nora will be okay here?"

"Yes, my dear, I believe it is."

CSICSICSICSICSI

Notes: So, are you all as excited as I am that Nora _finally _looked at Gil? She was killing me! Thanks for reading!


	13. Pizza: August 2011

Notes: This chapter takes place the day after Grissom and Nora bond over the nasty cockroaches.

(Completely unrelated side note: I went to the Cincinnati Zoo yesterday with my kids. My boys adore the insect house. I stared at the terrarium of Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches in there and really wondered how Sara could ever indulge Grissom's desire to own them. Butterflies? Beautiful. Tinfoil beetles? Cute and shiny. Big-Headed Ants? Small, industrious, and fascinating to watch. Cockroaches? Just plain nasty. My boys like them, though. Surprise.)

Anyway, I've been struggling with the mechanics of writing this story. I know what I want to happen, and I've even put a lot of time and effort into developing Nora's character through notes, notes, and more notes so that I can write her well, but this whole third person omniscient POV I've taken to writing in is just not working for me. Therefore, I've decided to write each chapter from one character's perspective. I'll probably just rotate Grissom, then Sara, then Nora, but we'll have to wait and see. For now, I can at least tell you definitively that this chapter is written in third person limited narration from Grissom's POV. Enjoy!

CSICSICSICSICSI

Grissom was welcomed home by a wagging stub of a tail and a lot of slobber shortly after 5:00. He patted Hank and absent-mindedly muttered something along the lines of "Good boy" as he reflected on the afternoon he'd just had. He'd gone to Greg's. He still couldn't believe he'd gone to Greg's for a social call.

_Who am I and where has Gil Grissom gone? _Never before last night had he once entertained the idea of "hanging out" with his former colleague who was twenty years younger than himself and had a rather eclectic taste in music, hairstyles, and girls. He just wasn't the kind of man who "hung out" with anyone. Sure, he'd get a steak with Brass every great now and then and okay, sure, he'd been seen in the company of Al Robbins outside the morgue a time or two, but for the most part, he was reclusive unless he was with Sara.

Sara. It had been she who had initially broached the subject of getting him out of the house so she could spend some time alone with Nora. He'd agreed to the idea, and had volunteered to go buy dog food or to take Hank to the park, but his ideas were apparently not good. They already had dog food. Hank was comforting to Nora, so Sara wanted Hank to stay home. Grissom had been a bit annoyed at that point, and had said, "Oh sure, the dog can stay, but I get kicked out. Thanks."

In the end, he'd gotten over feeling less a part of his own family than the dog and consented to heading out, sans dog. By something Greg called "Divine Intervention," he just so happened to call Sara's cell just as Grissom was deciding where to go. One thing led to another in Greg's and Sara's conversation, and before he could say no, he was on his way to Greg's apartment. Alone.

Turns out, Greg was a perfectly acceptable comrade… for the most part. His apartment was a little too, well, loud, both literally and metaphorically, for Grissom's comfort. He had to admit, though, that the extreme variety in the living space kept his investigative instincts entertained for hours; Greg's books ranged from The Great Gatsby to Ride 'Em, Cowgirl: Sex Position Secrets for Better Bucking, his CDs ranged from Andrew Lloyd Webber to Van Halen, his décor ranged from a potted orchid to flamingo string lights. They'd played chess. Grissom knew Greg had been captain of his high school chess team, but hadn't actually expected to meet his match in Greg. Turns out, after losing to Grissom in their first game, Greg annihilated Grissom in their second and their third games. The fourth victory belonged to Grissom, and after winning, he'd decided to head home before being invited to stay for dinner. Who knew what Greg fed himself.

Back at home, with Hank bounding along beside him, Grissom found Sara and Nora in the family room. His immediate thought was that he needed Norman Rockwell to capture the scene in front of him. If he'd had a camera on him, he'd have at least photographed it: both of his girls (he startled at the realization that he had just called Sara and Nora "his girls" in his head) were curled up on the couch, Nora's back resting against Sara's side, each engrossed in a book. Contentment.

Hank was a bulldog. He wasn't content to silently watch Sara and Nora read as was his master. Grissom smiled a hello toward the couch when Hank let out an excited bark.

In the midst of the exchange of greetings, Grissom didn't fail to notice how suddenly Nora had physically distanced herself from Sara the moment he had gotten close enough to kiss her, and he just managed to refrain from audibly sighing at the apparent fact that his mere presence in the room had immediately made Nora uncomfortable. It seemed obvious, though, that she and Sara were bonding very well, and for that, Grissom was grateful.

He was also hungry. "Anyone want to help me make a pizza?" A couple slices of a good margherita pizza sounded spectacular. While he was certainly willing to have help, he wasn't expecting either Sara or Nora to give up their books, so was surprised when Nora closed her novel, set it aside, and said, "Sure." Grissom and Sara shared a glance that clearly expressed surprise and gladness as they watched Nora pad off to the kitchen with Hank at her heels. Grissom bent down to give Sara a long, tender kiss, which she was glad to return until she playfully shoved him away, saying, "You've got a young chef waiting in the kitchen for you. Get cookin'!"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll go slave away for you while you sit around a read. I'm sure that's fair." Grissom was all smiles as he complained, and Sara stuck her tongue out at him as he retreated to the kitchen to join Nora.

Grissom was quite a good cook, which Sara thoroughly enjoyed. While awkward in many situations, Grissom was as at home in his kitchen as he was at a crime scene. He fluently gathered his ingredients, a bowl, measuring cups and spoons, and the pizza stone, handing each item to Nora to place on the island. He began humming to himself as he turned on the tap, and he realized he had asked Nora to help, and should therefore probably let her do something, so he asked her to measure out a quantity of warm water and pour it into a bowl. She did as she was asked and watched as Grissom added active dry yeast; Nora was taken aback by the sudden fizzing in the water as Grissom added a small amount of brown sugar. Grissom felt certain Nora had never made a pizza crust from scratch and had perhaps never made anything from scratch before and smiled at the thought that he was responsible for exposing her to a new experience.

The yeast needed to work with the sugar water for ten minutes, so Grissom sat down on a barstool at the island. He pulled a chair out for Nora and gestured for her to sit there. She didn't. _It's okay, Grissom. Remain calm. Where's Sara? What do I do?_ Terrified that he was going to scare Nora away from the kitchen, Grissom decided to ignore the fact that Nora wouldn't sit by him and diverted attention away from the offending barstool by gesturing toward a Sudoku book lying on the island.

"Do you do Sudokus?"

"Yeah, but not as hard as the ones you do. Sara said you can do the super hard ones. I did one from your book this morning. Sara said I could. It was only a medium one, so I figured you wouldn't mind."

"I don't mind at all. Here," he said as he tore a medium level Sudoku from the book and set it on the island in front of Nora, "You can work on this one while we wait for the yeast to finish fizzing." He pulled a pencil out of a drawer for Nora and turned the pages of the puzzle book until he found an expert puzzle. The two sat in silence, save for the quiet fizzing of the yeast and the even quieter scratching of pencils on paper.

Ten minutes later, Grissom had nearly forgotten Nora was even in the kitchen with him; her sudden exasperated declaration of, "There, I _finally_ finished it" startled Grissom into forgetting about wondering where on earth the 6 went in the top left box of his puzzle. As he looked up at Nora, he also realized the yeast, sugar, and water combination had stopped fizzing. He took his reading glasses off, smiled at Nora, and said, "Well, I think you can move up to hard Sudokus if you finished that one so quickly; I'm not even halfway done with mine."

Nora beamed back at him, and Grissom found himself remembering sharing that same smug grin with his mom when he would finish his 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle before she finished hers back when he was a kid. He also found himself feeling something more than concern for, and care about Nora… was he really learning to love this kid? He'd just properly met her four days ago. Was he really supposed to love her already? Did he really know what loving a child felt like? It had taken him years to accept the fact that he loved Sara, and he had denied loving her for so long that he'd forgotten when he'd first fallen in love with her. Was it this fast? Had he really loved Sara four days after he'd met her?

Putting his startling emotional thoughts aside, Grissom smiled back at Nora and stood up to begin making the pizza dough. He and Nora added olive oil, salt, and whole wheat flour to the yeast mixture. Grissom started to knead the ingredients together, but then remembered to continue letting Nora help. When he asked her to knead the dough, he had to smile at the face she made at the bowl, as if she was afraid to get her hands dirty. Grissom somehow couldn't stop smiling. He loved the way Nora plunged her hands right into the bowl even though she seemed grossed out. He loved how he immediately thought that Nora was like Sara, brave and determined. He loved how Nora's auburn hair bobbed gently around her face as she put even her shoulders to work kneading the dough. He loved it that she turned to him and silently asked if she was doing it right with her beautiful green eyes.

Grissom was enjoying watching Nora so much that he didn't think before reflexively wiping flour off her nose with his finger.

Nora stopped kneading. She froze. Grissom realized he was holding his breath. He wanted to apologize, but that would suggest he'd done something wrong, and brushing flour off her face just wasn't wrong. Nora seemed to be breathing hard, having some sort of internal struggle with her reaction to his touch. Suddenly, just as Grissom was about to step away to give her space, Nora took a deep breath and said, very quietly, "Thanks. I hope I didn't make a mess of the kitchen along with my face."

Grissom could nearly feel the effort it had cost Nora to pretend she actually was thankful that he touched her, and again, he was seized by a strange desire to pull her into a bear hug. Instead, he simply told her she'd done a great job with the dough and that they could stick it in the fridge to let it rise for a while. After washing her hands, Nora left the kitchen and headed in the direction of her bedroom.

Grissom called after her, "Do you want me to come get you when the dough's ready to roll out?"

"Yeah, sure." Nora had even turned back to look at him as she answered. Grissom noticed that Hank had gotten up from the kitchen floor and followed Nora to her room. He watched contentedly as Nora let Hank into her room before shutting the door behind her.

Sara joined Grissom in the kitchen; she silently began massaging his shoulders as he was huddled over his Sudoku. When he turned to face her, she wiped flour off his nose, causing him to laugh out loud; how uncanny. He related his flour-wiping incident with Nora to Sara, and eventually, he tore a hard Sudoku out of his book for her and the two of them sat in comfortable silence as they studied the grids in front of them.

Eventually, Grissom declared, "I'm going to go get Nora. The dough's ready. Are you going to stay and help this time or are you going to be antisocial again?"

"Antisocial? Pot calling the kettle black, huh?" Sara teased. "Fine, though, I'll help, although how much help you can possibly need throwing some cheese on a pizza?"

"Well, perhaps you and Nora should just finish up and I'll be antisocial. I'm the one who deserves a break anyway; I did just spend half the day with Greg, you know."

Sara called out to Grissom, who had already started down the hall, "Oh, poor baby!"

"I know I am. You had better pity me. Oh, and you owe me big time!" Grissom called back.

At Nora's door, Grissom knocked gently, and heard Hank's happy barking in response. Nora promptly opened the door and came back to the kitchen, where she helped Grissom and Sara roll out the dough, brush it with olive oil and garlic, and cover the pizza with slices of fresh mozzarella, sliced tomatoes, and chopped basil leaves. Nora voiced concern over not covering the dough with pizza sauce, and Grissom assured her that his type of pizza was far superior to its "red sauce" counterparts. Grissom added a basil leaf "flower" in the center of the pie before sticking it in the oven to bake, at which Nora rolled her eyes and said, "Cute." Grissom laughed.

Twenty minutes later, the family sat down to eat. He and Sara chatted about his visit to Greg's. Nora chimed in on occasion. As he listened to Sara's and Nora's account of what they'd done while he'd been out, he thought to himself that pizza had never tasted so good.

CSICSICSICSICSI

Note: I apologize for the super long wait between updates! In my notes at the beginning, I said I went to the zoo with my kids yesterday… well, as I'm finishing this chapter right now, I'm realizing that the zoo visit was at least 3 weeks ago. I did warn you all that I was going back to full-time employment and beginning grad school! In fact, this was my first week back at work and I'm so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open, but both of the neighbors are having huge parties as I write, so I really can't be sleeping. They're a bit noisy. Oh well. At least you all got a finished chapter out of me because of their partying. Hopefully, I'll find the time and energy to update in a more timely manner. Please review; let me know how you're liking this! Thanks so much!


	14. The Happily Ever After: December 2011

Notes: I am aware that the length of time between updates for this story has been outrageous and that all of you have surely given up on me. Sorry about that! Being back to work full-time this school year along with being a full-time grad student on top of my most important job of being a mom has me up past midnight most nights just trying to get the "have-tos" done; there just isn't time for the "want tos" anymore. I am on Christmas break from teaching and from grad school right now, so even though my photo album is still not caught up, my grad school portfolio has been neglected, there is no fruit in my house, and I have no lesson plans for next week, I thought it'd be lovely to sit down and write something for a change. I hope I have something decent to offer. This chapter makes major leaps in time and completes the story.

CSICSICSICSICSI

Nora had been a member of the family for six months. She attended seventh grade at St. Viator, where she was a quiet, well-mannered student with no friends. She wasn't bullied, but everyone knew she was the girl whose parents were dead. The manner of their deaths changed with each telling of the story by different kids. Nora had heard about them being drowned, shot, stabbed, hung, strangled, and even poisoned by her, but she had learned, or at least was still learning through twice weekly therapy sessions, to ignore it all. She had found a home with Grissom and Sara and with the employees of the grave shift of the LVPD CSI unit.

While life for Nora wasn't carefree, especially because of being ostracized at school, she'd come a long way in six months. She had been terrified of being in the same room as Grissom, but was now comfortable hugging him, ruffling his hair just to annoy him, and didn't even flinch when he kissed Sara. At first, she had slept with "the" bedroom door locked due to her unease with Gil, but now slept soundly in "her" bedroom with the door cracked open so Hank could come and go as he pleased. She and Gil had even developed a routine of eating their breakfasts together while doing the Sudokus in the morning paper (Grissom the "expert" one and Nora the "easy" one).

Nora was no longer a stranger invading Sara's and Gil's space. At first, Nora had kept all of her things in her bedroom, even going as far as removing her toothbrush from her bathroom twice a day so that it wouldn't be in anyone's way (never mind the fact that toothbrushes in general are not typically in anyone's way and never mind the fact that she was the only one who used that bathroom). Now, although Sara insisted on tidiness, Nora's iPod was nearly always on an end table, two or three pairs of shoes were nearly always kicked to a position near the front door, a jacket was frequently left slung over the back of the couch, and several glasses of water were left out and forgotten on several surfaces.

At first, Gil had felt like a stranger in his own home, try as he did to make sure Nora was comfortable and knowing as he did that his presence made her as uncomfortable as could be. He was hesitant to touch Sara, and certainly paranoid about touching Nora. He chose his words with even more deliberation than he had been prone to back in his days as the boss of grave shift. Now, showing affection to his wife was not something he was afraid to do, and Nora even hugged him goodnight every night. He wasn't even sure "normal" twelve year old kids did that. He didn't think he'd hugged him mom at age twelve unless she forced him to. He and Nora even cracked jokes together and shared similar dry senses of humor. She even watched Discovery channel with him after Sara left for work at night.

When Nora first arrived, Sara had had nightmares, night terrors, and terrible insomnia. Memories of her father's murder and her life as a foster child kept her awake, or worse, woke her from fitful sleep, trembling and sweating like a small child afraid of a monster in the closet. Unable to accept that Nora was suffering as badly as she had, Sara was constantly on edge and paranoid that she couldn't "make it right" for Nora. Gil had eventually insisted that Sara attend counseling with Nora one afternoon a week and alone once a week, and with counseling, Sara was able to come to grips with the fact that Nora was suffering and that she couldn't take the suffering away. She had since learned to read Nora for signs of wanting or needing to talk about her feelings, for signs of depression or withdrawal, and most importantly, for signs of wanting to be a happy twelve year old who just wanted to talk, play Just Dance on the wii, and shop for clothes. Sara learned to pretend to forget hers and her foster daughter's shared past of violence and loss during the times when Nora was pretending to forget it, too. The nightmares and insomnia had diminished, although not ceased.

There had been setbacks in the development of a mostly happy home shared by Gil, Sara, and Nora.

There was the one time Nora had a major panic attack when Grissom suggested going out for ice cream. Gil and Sara had learned the hard way that before her dad would sexually assault Nora, he would take her out for ice cream. After staring helplessly at Nora for what seemed like ages as she curled up into fetal position, rocked, and alternated between sobbing and screaming, Sara had kicked Gil out of the house and had spent two solid hours huddled up on the floor, holding Nora as close as she could or dodging panicked kicks until Nora had regained the ability to control her body and had calmed down enough to move to the couch and verbalize why she had freaked out.

There had been the time when Nora had left the house to walk Hank alone without telling either Sara or Gil, and they had immediately assumed the worst, thinking that she had run away. By the time Nora returned home (probably less than 30 minutes after she'd left), Jim Brass and Gil were already driving the neighborhood streets in search of her, Sara was sending her text after text and was simultaneously on the phone with Catherine, trying to find out if Nora had told Lindsey she was running away (she and Lindsey, while not the same age, had developed a bond). When Nora had returned home with flushed cheeks from the chilly air, she had been greeted with the closest thing to yelling she'd heard since her parents' last fight, and had had another panic attack.

There had been the time Nora had seen Gil folding a pair of her underwear. It had never crossed Grissom's mind that doing so could bother Nora; all Sara did when he folded her underwear was thank him for taking care of a chore. Nora had basically hidden from him for a week. Sara made magnets for the washer and dryer that said, "Sara's and Gil's" and "Nora's" and a rule was established that whoever was using the washer or dryer had to label it with their magnet and that Gil was never to touch "Nora's" and that Nora was never to touch "Sara's and Gil's.

There was the four month time period in which Sara and Gil had hardly kissed each other goodnight, much less had sex. There was so much uncertainty with what Nora may or may not hear through the walls that intimacy seemed forbidden. Eventually, the therapist had insisted that even though Nora carried major emotional scars because of sex and sexual acts, she needed to see a proper, loving relationship in action. She needed to see snuggling up on the couch, simple kisses while cooking together, light-hearted flirting, and hand-holding while on a walk. Sara still insisted on rolling a towel up in front of the crack under their bedroom door to block out whatever noise she allowed Grissom to make during love-making, but hey, at least they were back to having sex.

There had been the time Nora met Betty. Sara and Gil had taught Nora some basic signs and Betty was prepared to write some conversation and to be patient as Gil translated for both herself and for Nora. Nora had actually been thrilled with the idea of having a grandma, and had helped Gil make the lasagna and Caesar salad for dinner just before Betty's arrival. Unfortunately, when Betty had seen Nora's bedroom, she'd commented about how she used to love staying in that room. Nora ended up hiding in her bathroom for the majority of the evening, and only after Betty left did she sob to Sara that she felt guilty for taking the room from Betty. Sara had emailed an explanation to Betty, but she'd maintained that Nora hated her for over a month. Now, Nora called Betty "Grandma" and she enjoyed looking at the photo albums from Gil's childhood that Betty shared every time they saw her. Nora especially enjoyed the times when Gil's cheeks would flush as he was forced to translate an embarrassing story about himself as a boy.

Now, panic attacks were still a very real threat to the happy Grissom household, but they were few and far between. A routine had been established that all three people in the house, and even Hank, seemed to be happy with. Nora and Gil visited the lab once a week, on Friday nights, to bring lunch to Sara and the rest of the grave shift. Nora loved the attention she got there. Now that she was comfortable being around the grave team, Greg was pulling off more and more stunts and tricks for her entertainment, Nick had taken to calling her "Sweetheart," Mandy had taught her everything she'd ever want to know about fingerprints, proper nail care, and eyebrow maintenance, Archie had helped her with several homework projects, giving her status at school as "tech savvy," and the new boss, DB, had given her instructions on how to care for and use the various plants in his office and had framed and hung up a sketch she'd drawn for him of his favorite mushroom.

DB had struggled with the schedule for Christmas. Nick wanted to go home to Texas. Greg wanted to go to Norway to visit a cousin he'd recently developed a bond with through Facebook. Catherine wanted to spend the holiday with Lindsey. Sara wanted to spend the holiday with Nora. He wanted to spend the holiday with his wife and kids. Brody was a good CSI and all, but DB didn't think she could work Christmas Eve and Christmas day on her own. People were still murdered on Christmas, after all. Eventually, he'd settled on telling Greg to go to Norway in January when no one needed off and gave each of his team members either Christmas Eve or Christmas day off, including himself. Sara happened to get Christmas Eve off.

Christmas had been a hot topic of conversation in the Grissom household. Sara and Gil had wheedled as much information about Nora's past Christmases as they could while trying not to make her relive horrible memories. As it turned out, Nora had never received a gift from Santa; her dad had told her early on that Santa was a lie. She had never received Christmas gifts from her parents, either, but her grandparents had always made the holiday happy for her until they either moved away, passed away, or were placed in nursing homes. Sara and Gil were determined to make some happy Christmas memories with the girl they saw as their daughter, not their foster child. They'd bought a live tree, set it up, cursed the strand of lights that died after being strung on the tree as Nora laughed, and hung an assortment of random ornaments Sara and Gil had been gifted over the years and had never hung before, ranging from a Billy Bass to an LVPD logo, to a couple of jolly Santas, to a Nativity, to a rather interesting, apparently drunken reindeer. They'd even gone as far as hanging a strand of icicle lights from the garage roof. Sara and Nora had baked and then thrown away a batch of Christmas cookies because they'd apparently failed to add a key ingredient. Gil had then shown them up by shooing them out of the kitchen and only letting them back in after he'd pulled freshly baked, perfectly decorated gingerbread men from the oven.

On Christmas Eve, Sara, Gil, and Nora headed to Betty's house, which she'd decorated lavishly and beautifully. Her Christmas tree was much more elegant than theirs with its simple white lights and all red ball ornaments. The four watched A Christmas Story after dinner and Nora had teared up while opening her present, saying, "It's really, really nice to feel special enough to be given anything." That statement, had, of course, made Gil, Sara, and Betty tear up. Contagious laughter filled the room as they all teased each other for being so sentimental.

Unbeknownst to Nora, Sara had begged Greg to set Nora's Christmas presents from Santa out under the tree while they were at Betty's. When they returned home, Nora could barely contain her excitement, leading Gil and Sara to be glad they had decided to give gifts from Santa even though Nora was obviously way too old to actually believe in him. She literally skipped around the family room after opening Just Dance 2 for the wii, and immediately challenged Sara to a dance off. Nora won, of course, but not for lack of effort on Sara's part. The competitor in her hated losing to a child, and Gil was frequently heard laughing as his wife pulled off some highly entertaining moves.

When Nora bounced off to the kitchen for a glass of water, Sara and Gil immediately met each other's gaze and silently nodded. It was time. Really, it was well past bedtime, but right now, it was time for the big gift. Well, not literally big, per say, but the best gift. At least, they hoped it was better than the iTunes gift card.

When Nora plopped down on the couch, Sara took a deep breath and said, "Hey, we have one more present for you, but I think you should open it in your room. We're not sure what you'll think of it, and want to give you the privacy to react however you want to."

Nora cocked an eyebrow suspiciously at Sara, then turned her gaze to Gil. She had an inkling of what was going on, but chose to say, "What? Is it a mounted tarantula? If it is, I've told you a million times that the framed butterflies are cool, but I am so not living with framed spiders on the wall. Well, hand it over." She held a hand out to Sara. "If I'm going to freak out, I really should get on with it. It's practically midnight, you know."

Sara handed Nora an envelope. She and Gil watched as Nora walked away with it. They waited with baited breath. Neither even moved, except for reaching to hold each other's hand. The fact that there was no audible noise, no crying, nothing thudding against the wall, no whimpering from Hank as he tried to comfort a sad Nora was potentially a good thing. Still, Sara and Gil stood waiting. Minutes passed and still they stood. Sara whispered, "We said we'd give her privacy."

"I know, dear. She'll come back. Relax."

"Relax. How am I supposed to relax?" Sara removed her sweaty palm from Gil's hand and wiped it on her jeans. When she returned her fingers to the comfort of Gil's grasp, Nora made a reappearance. Tear tracks lined her face. Her eyelids were puffy and her eyes were reddened. She carried two envelopes.

Without speaking, Nora placed one of the envelopes in Sara's hand. Sara looked at Nora, who gave a small nod. Sara looked at Gil, who gave a small nod. Sara carefully opened the envelope, revealing a familiar set of papers: adoption paperwork from the Nevada Department of Health and Human Services. She and Gil grinned. Nora beamed.

"I asked Catherine to help me get those papers." Nora barely managed to get that sentence out before all three of them were crying and hugging. The happiness was tangible and wonderful, but Sara did have a fleeting thought that Greg would absolutely rib her for the rest of her life about this tear fest had he been present to witness it.

Eventually, the tears stopped flowing and Sara, Gil, and Nora all had sore faces from smiling so widely for so long. Gil was the first to regain the power of intelligible speaking, and asked Nora, "You really want us to be your parents? Forever?"

"Um, duh." Nora was sometimes oh so typically preteen. _Duh. Of all the words at a time like this._ Ignoring that thought, Sara was the first to utter the three little words never yet spoken between her and Nora or Grissom and Nora. "God, Nora, I love you."

"I love you, too. I really do. I love you, too, Gil."

Gil yanked Nora in for a tight hug and managed to whisper into her hair that he loved her, too, though tears were clouding his vision again.

Once Nora extracted herself from Gil's grasp, she said, "There's one more thing," and withdrew a piece of stationery from the envelope Sara had set down. She handed it to Sara, saying, "I think you should read this first. You have to like the idea, too."

It was Sara's turn to arch an eyebrow in confusion, but Nora refused to answer the silent question. She simply watched Sara's face as Sara read aloud, "Dear Sara, I think that when my adoption becomes official, we should seem like a family even to strangers. Instead of being Gil Grissom, Sara Sidle, and Nora Pennington, we should truly become the Grissom family. Will you change your name to Sara Grissom and change mine to Nora Grissom?"

The Grissoms lived happily ever after.

CSICSICSICSICSI

Notes: Thank you for reading this, even though you've probably long since forgotten the events of the previous chapters. I had a long list of events planned. This story was meant to have about 30 chapters. Knowing that there was no way I'd ever find time to write that many, I pretty much ruined the story by squashing as many little things as I could into this one final chapter, leaving out detail and dialogue. I really just wanted to finish the story, both for myself and for you. I hope you are not despairing right now at the incredibly fairy-tale-ish ending to this story, but hey, it is Christmas, and eventually, in the original plans for this story, the adoption and the name change were going to take place, just not all at once, not on Christmas, and not only six months after starting the foster care relationship. Oh well. It is what it is.

Have a blessed and happy new year! I hope to get back to writing in June.


End file.
